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THE EXPLOSIVES LEAPED LIKE DANCING SERPENTS 







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KING OF THE PLAINS 

STORIES OF RANCH 
INDIAN, AND MINE 


BY TIL. TILFORD, PAUL HULL 
W. O. Stoddard, Charles 
F. LUMMIS, M. E. M. DAVIS 
AND OTHERS 


LL U S T RATE D 



HARPER 6* BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 
MCMX 


^I'is -'Vi'C* 5w5> ^4^ /}'?Cs 5 a 



to- Z 322 




Copyright, iqio, by Harper & Brothers 


Published October, 1910. 

Printed in the United States of America 




©Gl, A273525 


CONTENTS 


i 

KING OF THE PLAINS 
And His Meeting with “ The General ” 
By Til. Tilford 

II 

“DOMINOES” 

The Story of His Lively “Fourth” 

By Til. Tilford 

III 

THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 
His “ Official ” Christmas 
By Til. Tilford 

IV 

CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 
In the Camp of Screaming Horse 
By Paul Hull 

V 

A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 
“The Bravest Boy on the Plains” 

By Paul Hull 

VI 

LITTLE HAWK 
A Strange Buffalo-Hunt 
By William O. Stoddard 


CONTE NTS 


VII 

THE LOST SCOUT 
In the Den of a Mexican Lion 
By W. Thomson 

VIII 

THE GUNSHOT MINE 
A Story of Lucky “ T enderfeet” 

By Charles F. Lummis 

IX 

THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG” 
A Fight for a Mine 
By Philip Marston Brasher 

X 

THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 
How the Mine-Robbers W ere Caught 
By Philip Marston Brasher 

XI 

AN OUTLAW 

A Story ofJim-Ned Creek 
By M. E. M. Davis 

XII 

A FRONTIER PATRIOT 
Defending the Flag 
By Edith Carruth 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE EXPLOSIVES LEAPED LIKE DANCING SER- 
PENTS • 

THEY CONFRONTED TWO MEN, ONE OF WHOM 
WAS BOUND TO A POST 

“quick and steady now! don’t miss!” . . 

jack’s MOTHER WAS KNEELING IN THE GRASS 
WITH HER ARMS ABOUT HER BOY . . . 


Frontispiece 

Facing p. 40 
“ 88 ^ 

“ 162 K 














KING OF THE PLAINS 









KING OF THE PLAINS 


His Meeting with “ The General” 

Bfiiwailffl P ART ACU S,” King of the Plains, 
|J “Q 8 came with a snort and a roar from 
B O g the underbrush. His big eyes, glint- 
g^j^PJp^ing in the firelight like brindle door- 
knobs, looked over the shoulder of Blubbins, 
who was nearest. His back, which it took a tall 
man to see over, hid half the horizon. 

“ Great Scott !” cried Blubbins, reaching 
feebly for his gun. 

McCormick stared helplessly at the stars. 

“ Don’t ye do it !” he gasped. “ He ’ain’t 
believed!” The last in a chattering hope. 
Then we waited, while the King “ sized us 
up.” Apparently he thought well of us, for 
he only roared. Had he bellowed, it would 
have been time to clear the vicinity, for in that 
case we feared every inch of his mountainous 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


body. After a period, still roaring softly, he 
went away through the sage-brush. 

“ Great Scott !” repeated Blubbins, in a swift 
breath ; then there was silence for a time. 
McCormick stood, his back to the fire, 
stretched with the luxurious sense of a man 
living again, and looked thoughtfully off into 
the shadows. The tread of the King came 
faintly through the short mesquite woods. 

It had been some months since the bull was 
last seen in the neighborhood, and we, whom 
he had once taught to go about with weapons 
at half-rest and a wary eye on the landscape, 
began to take cheer in the belief that he had 
made his home on some distant range. To 
have him turn up then in this unexpected way 
was depressing. 

Kobody cared to say he owned him, as to do 
so would immediately bring the owner to law, 
in response to an endless list of damage claims, 
while his brands had become too obscured by 
the scars of combats to show where he belonged. 
Without question, he was the wickedest bull in 
the whole brown country. McCormick had on 
one or two occasions set out to kill him, but 
somehow lost his good intentions. Most per- 
sons were timid over the matter when it came 

o 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


to looking Spartacus in the eye. He was so 
heavy and massive that bullets might simply 
wound him, leaving him enraged, in which 
event few of us would care to be on the same 
acre of ground with him. The King’s horns 
alone — monstrous affairs which he wore with 
pride — told of a long history of battles, being 
yellow and cracked and chipped near the tips. 
His great, hairy face, battered and scar-marked, 
spoke of a life of wickedness and crime. He 
fought his way from range to range, and when 
the opportunity came made the agitation of a 
stampede his delight. 

We — the three of us — had been for some 
days on a hard ride into the north, and were 
nearing home again, with that sensation of 
peace and restfulness which comes to cattle- 
men after a season of vicious work. We were 
calculating upon lying around for a spell, al- 
lowing ourselves to be disturbed only in case 
of fire or flood. But this sudden appearance 
of Spartacus left us in a fever. It was sur- 
prising, the sense of deep uneasiness which the 
presence of the bull could put in a man’s 
breast. Hot necessary at all that he should 
be at one’s heels; anywhere in the same gen- 
eral locality was enough. 

3 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


On this occasion McCormick the giant was 
most affected. He turned presently, breathing 
with closed teeth, and swung a glittering 
weapon into view. 

“ Fellers,” said he, “ if ever that bull and I 
meet ag’in, one or t’other of us dies!” 

“ A remark I’ve heard many times before,” 
said Blubbins, dryly, between whiffs. “ Ye 
couldn’t ’a’ hed a better chance than jis’ now.” 

“ Ye don’t say !” growled the giant. “ He 
wuzn’t cornin’ fer me, wuz he? I reck’n no- 
body wants to shoot him in cold blood.” 

“ A mighty old saw, too,” retorted the other, 
easily. “ But say ?” 

“ Wull ?” 

“ I wuz thinkin’ of somethin’. S’pose he 
meets the Gineral?” 

The remark, carelessly made, threw us at 
once into a state of deep thoughtfulness. 

“ The General ” had come to us some weeks 
before, with mud on his short, straight horns 
and cactus needles in his beard. From some- 
where in the sweeps of the plain he had come, 
sidling not timidly, but with the confidence of 
a person approaching his own house. Though 
all visible evidence pointed to his being lost, 
the fact, if he was conscious of it, gave him no 
4 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


concern. He was an exceedingly serious-mind- 
ed goat, to whom the permanent loss of his 
bearings was a circumstance too trifling for at- 
tention. 

We might have been glad at his arrival had 
it not been for the ill-mannered way in which 
he “ put up ” at the ranch. He did so exactly 
as though he owned the place, ignoring the 
authority of every one, even to Foreman Joe, 
who viewed him with a suspicious eye from 
behind a corner of the stable, and was forced 
to flee to the loft for safety. Did any of us 
but regard the General evilly, he would divine 
it on the instant, and come for the particular 
culprit with the speed of a comet. As a con- 
sequence we were continually dodging and 
leaping from his path, until Joe declared that 
our agility exceeded anything he had ever seen 
us previously display, even on the liveliest 
round-up. For that same reason, and the fur- 
ther one that the animal was a decided novelty 
in the neighborhood, we suffered him to remain, 
knowing, too, that there would be no particular 
discomfort in his presence so long as we be- 
haved ourselves and allowed him to “ run ” the 
ranch. We began then to watch for his 
approval before venturing on any important 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


moves, and it often became a matter of rivalry 
between ns as to who could cross the vacant 
ground between the house and corrals with the 
least show of concern, the General standing 
meanwhile in the open, his gaze directed quiz- 
zically toward us, while he chewed placidly a 
bit of broken stirrup-leather or a decomposed 
saddle-girth. 

It was not this characteristic of the goat, 
however, which brought him at the present 
moment so strikingly to our mind, but rather 
the idea, with which he seemed to have been 
born, of having absolute right of way over all 
living objects, regardless of proportions. Since 
the hour of his arrival he had conducted him- 
self on this principle ; but now from out of the 
blue north there had come a famed gladiator, 
who, if their paths met and there was any show 
of officiousness, would demolish him, and the 
sound of whose voice alone might be expected 
to make him tremble. But therein we knew 
lay the General’s stupidity. He had not the 
intelligence to tremble at anything, and we 
knew that he would regard this monarch of 
the prairies as an insect which the whiff of 
his breath would cause to fade into the horizon. 
And when the King refused to “ fade,” and 
6 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


returned his indifference, there would be trou- 
ble, which, as a matter of course, could only 
mean the ending of the General. 

Our sympathy then went out to the smaller 
animal, McCormick especially, who had learn- 
ed to hate him as one hates a mischievous 
brother, regarding his peril in a serious light. 
For Spartacus had headed toward the ranch. 
It worried the giant somewhat, and when morn- 
ing came I knew that he had slept uneasily 
through the night. 

We struck the trail early, and rode with 
speed, intending to reach the ranch before 
noon. The woods stood thinner and thinner 
as we advanced, dwindling finally into a scat- 
tering growth which told us the prairie was at 
hand. Toward the close of the morning we 
entered the broad sweep of rolling plain, on the 
far side of which lay the ranch-houses, with 
the knowledge that Spartacus had gone before 
us. For occasionally in a soft spot of the trail 
we had observed the mark of his great hoof, 
and McCormick, leaning above it, had said, 
sullenly, 

“ The King.” 

It wasn’t long, either, before we overtook 
him, between two slopes, less than three miles 
7 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


from the ranch buildings, toward which he was 
edging idly. 

McCormick at once halted us, and said, with 
earnestness : 

“ Fellers, this is a serious matter. Some- 
body must hold him back while somebody else 
goes and warns the Gineral.” 

u Easy enough in part,” asserted Blubbins, 
with a glance at the King’s magnificent horns. 
“ I’ll agree to ’ten’ to the goat ; and, say ” — • 
bending with some impatience toward McCor- 
mick — “ I s’pose ye’re willin’ to do the holdin’ 
back?” 

The words stung the giant. He was in the 
exact mood to take them as a direct affront. 
He looked savagely at Blubbins, and from him 
to Spartacus, and his mind seemed made up to 
do something. 

“ Without a doubt,” he said simply, and dis- 
mounted. 

His next move was to unbuckle the picket 
rope and pin from his saddle, his fingers work- 
ing with vicious swiftness. His six-shooter 
then he slipped into the saddle-bags, and passed 
the bridle of his mount to Blubbins, whose 
word of restraint sank at once in his throat. 

“ Close up — you /” thundered the giant. “ I 
8 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


want no interference, and I’ll hev none !” with 
a jerk of his fist toward the King. “ Me and 
that animal hev been on ill terms for some 
time, and it behooves ns to settle our account 
square. I’ll tackle him alone or not at all, and 
if ye watch close ye’ll see him roped out with 
less trouble ’n a lame plug.” 

He was clearly at ill temper; and when the 
giant reached that state no one was in the habit 
of venturing advice, especially when, as in this 
case, his anger overbalanced all human judg- 
ment. His idea was to lasso the King, drive 
the picket-pin at the rope’s other end into the 
earth with his heel, and, if possible, get safely 
beyond the limit of the lariat. Instantaneous 
work — but that was his idea. His state of 
mind, too, was such as to leave him with a 
reckless desire to make the exploit as hazard- 
ous as possible. To show his contempt for the 
bull, he deliberately walked in a half -circle 
round him, halting at the top of the slope be- 
yond — a useless movement, which left him fac- 
ing, unmounted and unarmed, the wickedest 
pair of horns in the Brazos Valley. Spartacus 
for the moment was tranquil, but the buzzing 
of a fly was enough to turn the tide of his 
temper. 


9 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


The giant curved his long body into position 
for the cast, and we watched him, breathless. 
The same instant, it seemed, the loop went 
spinning through the air, and I heard a groan 
from Blubbins as we saw that he had not cal- 
culated for the slope of the land. The lariat 
had struck the King below the eyes. 

Immediately he drooped his head and roared 
in sudden anger at the giant, who squared him- 
self for the leap of his life. The moment was 
one of unutterable suspense. Spartacus roared 
again, and the cowboy, squatting with his 
hands on his thighs, awaited the lunge. Could 
he but dodge the first sweep of the horns, there 
would be hope of reaching his bronco. The 
King was on the very point of rushing, when 
his eye caught another object and he hesitated. 
This object was nothing more nor less than a 
solemn - looking head, with two straight horns 
and a wagging beard, which bobbed at this 
juncture over the summit of the knoll. 

The General was in a thoughtful mood, as 
usual, and chewed obliviously the tough end of 
a weed, while his head was cocked wisely 
against the breeze. On the brow of the knoll, 
however, he seemed to become conscious that 
something of interest was taking place. The 
10 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

plain and the things upon it he regarded crit- 
ically from the corner of his eye. His manner 
was serious, like that of a new overseer. His 
beard rose and fell reflectively, until he was 
given the expression of a sage. 

We looked at the King. As said before, he 
had hesitated, and was gazing with curiosity 
at this small thing which had come so uncere- 
moniously upon his vision. It was not unlike- 
ly that he had never seen a goat before. 
Though he had roamed every mile of the grass- 
lands, from the Brazos to the Guadeloupe 
ranges, it was probable that a creature of this 
kind had never before crossed his path. Again 
he started up the slant, and again he came to 
a halt, looking in astonishment at the beast 
before him. The General, on • the summit of 
the knoll, tilted his head at a new angle and 
looked ever so wise. Spartacus roared softly, 
switching his tail, and McCormick suddenly 
found himself an outside party to an embarrass- 
ing piece of business. Some distance away he 
assumed a respectful attitude, with his chin in 
his hands. Spartacus roared again, sullenly. 
Perhaps it was the beard that puzzled him so. 

Then he advanced slowly, bellowing. His 
head swung lower in the dust, and his great 
ll 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


hoof at intervals pawed the trail, lifting the 
earth in thick clouds, which showered on his 
back, covering the red and white spots. What- 
ever this thing was — this beast with a beard — 
he would annihilate it. Suddenly the General 
stood on his rear feet, bleating, like a young 
bully unable longer to restrain himself. Then 
he waltzed off at an angle, and, doubling sharp- 
ly from a new quarter, came plump against the 
big brute’s side with the force of a battering- 
ram. We saw the King stagger, and heard 
immediately his deep bellow of rage, then 
the battle was on with a swiftness that seem- 
ed to take the power of motion from us. 
A gasp from the giant, a cry from Blub- 
bins and myself, and we were rigid with 
interest. 

The General approached his adversary at 
angles and from all sides. In a manner rapid 
and ingenious he evaded the rushes of the King, 
who charged him repeatedly, bellowing and 
sweeping up the earth in his frenzy. A sin- 
gle thrust of the horns would end the business, 
but the little beast seemed always in a safe 
place. He wheeled and dodged in innumerable 
circles and squares, calculating his time to the 
second, and at intervals went in and established 
12 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


liis forehead in the enemy’s flank. The sound, 
when he did this, was like a blow on an empty 
barrel. And the bull would bellow again furi- 
ously, and it would seem as if they fought in an 
ash-heap, so thick was the dust, which rose in 
heavy, rolling banks, choking the air like a fog, 
until we could see but dimly the combatants, 
catching faintly the red gleam of the King’s 
eyes. The General seemed everywhere in the 
commotion, wheeling and dodging and leaping 
away in a manner so rapid as to be bewilder- 
ing, and when he landed on the King the re- 
bound was as though he were an object of 
India-rubber. He feinted and foiled and coun- 
tered with the certainty of one following a 
planned line of battle. There were general- 
ship and science on his side, and lumbering 
overconfidence on the part of the bull, who, 
finding his great strength of so little impor- 
tance, became disturbed in mind, and in con- 
sequence awkward. His lunges were furious 
but ill timed, and the General dodged in a 
manner so amazingly scientific as to fill us 
with wonder. Again and again would the bull 
sweep at him, bellowing, only to swing into 
space, and in the same instant feel the weight 
of his enemy against his ribs. These repeated 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


bumps were as violent as tbe blows of a sledge. 
They began to tell upon him. Their unceas- 
ing regularity became monotonous. His horns 
raked the earth in a fury, but with less de- 
cisiveness. Unable to inspire terror into bis 
antagonist, it enraged him so that his rushes 
came blindly. The General gave no sign of 
weakening. In this tempest of war he was as 
fresh and unruffled as when enjoying a frolic 
with the calves at dawn. He grew zealously 
aggressive, lest his share of the excitement 
should lag. Spartacus finally grew tired. His 
body swayed uncertainly through the dust- 
clouds, and occasionally we glimpsed the end 
of his steaming red tongue. In desperation, 
however, he waged the combat, until presently 
the General took his persistence as a personal 
irritation, and, doubling into a ball, hurtled 
himself with the velocity of a meteor against 
the King’s stomach. The bellow of the bull w T as 
changed to a grunt as this happened, but he 
whirled heroically in a world of white dust, 
which hid for the moment the motions of the 
conflict. From out of the tumult there came 
the sound of a succession of thumps, rapid and 
regular, and a pair of immense horns and a 
massive dust - covered body emerged into the 
14 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


clear air and swung at a jaded gait over the 
plain. 

We looked after him until the tallest hair 
of his back had dropped behind a knoll, and 
in the silence of the prairie we were left to con- 
template one another. As the dust of conflict 
lifted, the General could he seen inspecting the 
vegetation along the slope. 

We looked at him stupidly. 

“ Wow !” said Blubbins, after a period, with 
something like awe in his voice. 

The giant mopped his brow. 

“ And sech a Gineral !” said he. “ Re’lly — 
I hed no idee!” 


II 


-DOMINOES” 

The Story of His Lively “Fourth” 

S HE Fourth of July had come, and 
its afternoon was already half gone, 
when Dominoes strode out of the 
living - house and, leaning his el- 
bows on the fence, began mending a spur. 
Presently Clem Hyde rode by. 

“ Hullo, Clem !” shouted Dominoes. 

“ Howdy, Dominoes ?” replied the rider. 

The mounted cowboy was about to pass on, 
but at the salutation he seemed to change his 
mind, and, turning his bronco, rode up to the 
fence. 

“ You’re lookin’ blue,” he ventured, cheer- 
fully. 

“ Think so ?” returned the other. He was 
young and tall, with a boyish face which the 
sun and wind had left dusky. He wore an ivory 
16 


“DOMINOES'’ 


domino on his chain, and another in the girdle 
of his hat. Fancy does lots of things to bring 
us comfort, and the cowboy enjoyed showing 
his fondness for dominoes in this way. 

“ Wull, I should say !” retorted Clem. 
“ What’s ailin’ you, anyhow ?” He belonged 
on the Double “ L ” ranch, twenty miles to the 
west. 

Dominoes tilted the spur in his hand idly, 
causing its steel plate to glitter in the sun. 

“ I’ll tell you, Clem,” he said : “ it’s too 
mighty quiet to suit me. You remember what 
a time we had last Fourth ? Nothin’ but rockets 
and noise the whole night long, and this year 
there ain’t going’ to be any noise, nor rockets, 
neither. Simply nothin’.” 

He paused and sent a wandering glance about 
him — over corn-fields of yellow and green, and 
slopes and levels of gray prairie specked with 
cattle. Everything seemed to be asleep. 

“ You know, last year,” he went on, “ we 
tried to outdo the Ferguson boys, me and my 
pards here, but we didn’t. They made a little 
more noise, and sent up consider’ble more Ro- 
man candles than we did, so this time we felt 
like givin’ them another e go.’ But Joe Talbot 
said, seein’ as we were all kinder short of funds, 
17 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


■we’d better not. Said he’d fix it so’s neither 
ranch would make any display, and he did. 
Yesterday he rode over to Ferguson’s and saw 
Pete Bailey, one of their boys, and Pete agreed 
to it all — said they wouldn’t buy any fireworks, 
neither, and so it’s all fixed, and we’re not goin’ 
to have any fun at all — no, we ain’t.” And 
Dominoes gazed mournfully off across the plain 
in the direction of the rival ranch. 

When his glance returned to his friend he 
saw that Clem’s face showed signs of astonish- 
ing interest for a neutral party. The mounted 
man had suddenly straightened up, stiffening 
his feet in the stirrups. 

“ Did Pete Bailey say that ?” he demanded, 
with an energy that bewildered Dominoes. 

“ Certainly ; and why ?” 

“ ’Cause, if he did, he’s foolin’ you. I was in 
Cinnamon yesterday, and I saw him buyin’ fire- 
works.” 

“ No!” 

“ I’m tellin’ you yes ! I saw him buyin’ right 
and left, and fillin’ his saddle-bags to runnin’ 
over !” 

Dominoes took his hat by the rim, thrust it 
higher on his forehead, and stared in utter 
amazement at the speaker. 

18 


“DOMINOES” 


“ You — you’re sure it was Pete V ’ lie stam- 
mered, finally. 

“ Sure of it ! Of course I am. Don’t you 
s’pose I know him ?” 

Dominoes tempered his teeth. 

“ Yes,” he said, thickly, “ hut — you see — I 
didn’t think Pete — Say, Clem!” He hit the 
sentence off with sudden fierceness. “ You’ve 
been in town to-dav?” 

“ Yes ; no more’n three hours ago.” 

“ And the stores — they ain’t closed ?” 

“ Ho. Leastwise ‘ Uncle ’ Andy’s ain’t. 
Mighty small patriotism in him when it comes 
to dollars. Oh, I say, goin’ over?” 

Dominoes had finished repairing the spur, 
and he now lifted his boot and buckled the 
steel to his heel. 

“ As quick as I can get there,” he said. 
“ Good-bye.” 

With a friendly motion of his hand he 
turned and strode off toward the stables, 
leaving Clem to proceed on his way, after 
watching him till he had passed under the 
sheds. 

A few minutes later Dominoes rode out of the 
stable-yards and swung over the plain at a gal- 
lop. Following the road to Cinnamon, he sped 
19 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


onward at a rattling, vigorous pace, and counted 
his money as he went. 

From the lining of his jacket he drew a little 
deerskin bag, and, pouring some coins into his 
palm, calmly numbered them as he galloped. 

“ Five, seven, ten, twelve,” he counted, han- 
dling the pieces with amazing ease for one trav- 
elling at so great a rate. “ Quite enough, I 
guess.” 

His eyes shone with a joyous light as he 
restored the silver to its pouch. It was all the 
money he had, but the pride of his ranch was 
at stake. He told himself this over and over, 
and it caused his bosom to swell and his blood 
to tingle. There would come a chill to his 
ardor, however, when he thought of the deceit- 
fulness of his neighbor. 

“ Pete, Pete,” he muttered, “ I wouldn’t have 
believed it ; but as long as you did the trick — 
why ” — he finished bitterly — “ I’ll have to sur- 
prise you in it !” 

For a dozen miles he galloped on, and sun- 
down had come when he rode into the main 
street of Cinnamon and tied his bronco in front 
of Uncle Andy’s store. 

The old shopkeeper greeted him with much 
warmth, and proceeded to show him through his 
20 


“DOMINOES” 


establishment. There were fireworks there in 
great variety. Though the stock was by no 
means as bulky as it had been, there was still 
enough to plentifully satisfy Dominoes’ wants. 

The cowboy supplied himself, for the most, 
with Eoman candles, buying several dozens of 
the largest ones. Tearing the bundles open in 
order to crowd more together, he stood them 
upright in his saddle-bags, until one of the two 
pockets was packed to its fullest. In the other 
section he then stored a mighty assortment of 
torpedoes, crackers, and rockets. 

It was after dark when he again mounted 
and, with his store of treasures buckled safely 
to the saddle behind, started for the ranch. He 
spurred now as briskly as he had come, for 
there was some doubt in his mind whether he 
could reach home before the display of Fer- 
guson’s was begun. He wanted to be on hand 
to begin just when they did. When they fired 
their first rocket, he wanted to have one ready 
to sail up toward the skies abreast of it. The 
thought of not being able to do this caused him 
to increase his pace; then his mind turned to 
Pete and his faithlessness, and before he knew 
it he was flying over the plain at a furious gal- 
lop. He had once guided Pete Bailey out of a 
21 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


labyrinth of canons, and had once helped him 
brand a drove of wild and vicious steers. And 
now to have him act in this way! 

“ Drat him for a miser’ble traitor !” he growl- 
ed as he travelled on. “ I’ll show him !” 

The gray, dusty road stretched dimly before 
him, but he followed it swiftly in the light of 
the stars. Presently the moon rose over a dis- 
tant knoll and helped to light up his way. It 
also lit up the prairie for many miles, and 
Dominoes, with the quickness of one trained to 
know his surroundings, looked about him. 

He was just crossing the old Chisolm trail, 
which he knew to be eight miles from home. 
Straining his gaze across the moonlit levels, he 
could barely see the glimmering lights of the 
ranch. The Ferguson place lay fifteen miles 
beyond, and was hidden by a line of low hills 
which zigzagged over the plain between the 
ranches. 

Dominoes looked southward. There, had it 
been daylight, he could have seen for thirty 
miles. The wide, furrowed trail ran in a 
straight line across a vast stretch of level 
prairie, and, following it with his glance far 
beyond the point where it became too dim to 
be visible, he saw a moving light. 

22 


“DOMINOES” 


“ Emigrants/’ he thought, and was about 
to ride on, when he suddenly pulled hard on 
his reins and listened. A sound, whose mean- 
ing he knew well, had caught his quick ear. 
From far to the north there came a low, dull 
rumble, as if some procession of heavy objects 
was bowling over the earth. At first a soft 
but sullen jar, it steadily swelled in volume, 
growing mightier as its cause came nearer. He 
knew it instantly — the muffled, sodden roar of 
a stampede ! 

“ Howlin’ Zebulon !” he gasped. “ They’re 
followin’ the trail !” 

His eye turned northward, and soon he be- 
held the bulky, black mass as it swept over the 
plain like some mighty billow. It was not a 
very large herd, but quite enough to spread 
terror in its path. Dominoes saw that they 
were clinging to the trail, and, plying his spurs, 
dashed straight ahead for several hundred yards. 
Then he whirled, and his glance again swerved 
to the south. 

“ God save the emigrants !” he cried ; then, 
facing the peril, he could only look and listen 
in anguish. That dull roar had now swollen 
to a thunderous thud, and already could he see 
the moonlight glinting on clashing horns. 

23 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Another thought then occurred to Dominoes. 
The emigrants’ wagon was more than two miles 
away; but no matter how far it might be, it 
was on the trail. The cattle must be driven 
from their course. No human power could 
stop them, but there was a chance — one in a 
hundred — of frightening them to the right or 
left. 

Dominoes felt the wind on his cheek, and 
while he struck a match on his leggings his 
fingers clutched a number of the candles at 
his side. A moment later he was galloping 
back toward the trail, flinging the small can- 
dles in all directions. The prairie was ablaze 
in an instant, and as he wheeled and rode 
parallel with the trail the fire followed him. 
Then came a period of confusion. With mad 
swiftness he lit the fuses, one with another, and 
so thickly did he fling them about that both he 
and his bronco became hidden in the sparks 
and smoke. Spluttering, spewing, and pop- 
ping, the explosives leaped here and there like 
dancing serpents, while they belched their 
streams of fire, and still, like some night fiend, 
he rode on, steering ever to the left and scat- 
tering flame in his path. His face was grimy 
with burnt powder, his eyebrows were scorched, 
24 


“DOMINOES ” 


and his blackened fingers were smarting from 
burns. But the travellers ahead were helpless, 
and he knew it. On one side rushing cattle, 
and on the other both cattle and fire, they could 
only hold to the trail. 

Dominoes saw this, and forged desperately 
onward. For nearly a mile he rode, and when 
he stopped there was a string of fire beside the 
trail behind him. His rest was brief, however. 
The thundering herd swept down upon him a 
minute afterward, though now divided in half 
by the flames. The uproar was tremendous. 
Dominoes found himself engulfed in a haze of 
sparks and smoke, mingled with dust from the 
heels of bulls. Half blinded, he rode diagonal- 
ly for the trail. Though most of the drove had 
been flanked out of the way, there were several 
hundred hugging the trail from the west, and 
the cowboy rode abreast of them. Through the 
rifts of dust he made out the leaders. Two 
gigantic hulls were in advance, bellowing and 
blowing, with dust banking up from their hoofs 
and steam vaporing from their hides. He rode 
hard and came even with the nearest one. His 
leg swung stiffly in the stirrup, and he felt his 
knee squeezed tight between his pony’s side and 
the warm, wet hide of the bull. One hand then 
25 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


sought the bag at his hip, and there followed 
a report like the bursting of a bomb. He had 
crashed his heaviest torpedo on the brute’s 
broad withers! 

It was followed by another and another, as 
swiftly as he could lift and lower his arm. The 
noise deafened him, black powder smoke swept 
up in his face, and burnt fragments bit his 
flesh, but he held on viciously. His breath 
came hot and husky, and he was weakening, 
but, leaning over, he hung desperately to the 
chase, crowding always to the west as he plied 
his paper bombs. It was a singular bombard- 
ment. 

For half a mile the bull and the bronco 
travelled abreast at the head of the tumult, 
the cowboy all the while leaning farther and 
farther over, and pressing harder and harder 
the brute’s heaving side till, at last, there came 
a change. The smell of so much powder, and 
the din of so many explosions about his ears, 
became more than the bull could endure, and 
he suddenly swayed at a gentle angle from the 
trail. The bull on the other side of him swayed 
as well, the cattle just behind followed, others 
followed them, and, plunging and bellowing, 
they still moved together. Dominoes wheeled 
26 


“DOMINOES” 


short to the left, and his pony quivered to a 
stand as the last of the herd hammered past 
them. It was time. Through banks of fine 
earth the cowboy strained his weakened eyes. 
The lantern on the emigrants’ wagon swung 
scarcely a hundred yards away. 

lie heard the wheels of the vehicle moving 
off safely, and the travellers talking excitedly 
to one another, but he did not think of over- 
taking them and explaining how they had been 
saved. 

For some moments he simply eased himself 
in the stirrups and rested; then, as the fire be- 
hind him blew nearer, he rode farther out on 
the safe side of the trail to cool off. Dismount- 
ing there, he stripped the saddle from his pony 
that he might breathe and rest in comfort, and 
stretched his own tired body upon the plain. 
The burns on his hands and face he regarded 
as too slight to notice, and besides, he was 
thinking of something else — something which 
really grieved him. 

When he got into the saddle, half an hour 
afterward, and again rode ranchward, he still 
thought of this deplorable thing, and once in 
a while his fingers sank into the hag behind 
him, where they clutched a few little bundles 
27 


KING OF THE P LA INS 


of firecrackers — all that was left of his valued 
horde. It left him dolefully depressed. 

“ It’s a miserable shame/’ he grumbled, bit- 
terly, “ hut I had to use ’em — I just had 
to.” Then, with his gaze toward the Ferguson 
ranch, “ I s’pose they’ll begin d’reckly, drat 
’em !” 

But the hoys on the Ferguson place did not 
begin. At least they had not done so when 
Dominoes rode into the stable -yards at his 
home. 

He could not understand it. After bathing 
his burns and having his supper he came out, 
and sitting alone on the wood-pile, looked long 
and anxiously in the direction of the Fer- 
gusons’. Nothing unusual, however, seemed 
to be happening over there, and after a while 
Dominoes, very much puzzled, shuffled into the 
house and went to his bed. 

It was about an hour after sunup the next 
morning, and he was leaning again over the 
front fence, when Pete Bailey came in view 
trotting his yellow pony over the prairie. 

Dominoes allowed him the first remark. 
Pete rode close up to the fence, and after 
greeting him breezily, began to fidget in his 
saddle. Dominoes wondered. When Pete 
28 


“DOMINOES’ 


Bailey showed awkwardness on a horse some- 
thing must be wrong. 

“ Where’s J oe ?” asked the man from Fer- 
guson’s. 

“ Busy.” 

“ Yes ? Wull, say, Dom, I want to tell you 
somethin’. I — you see — I want to kinder do 
the apology. You see, I didn’t trust you, Dom, 
and I’m ashamed of it. Ho, I didn’t trust you 
at all. Thought you were foolin’ about not 
gettin’ any fireworks, and that you intended a 
sort of s’prise party on us. And so I jest rode 
over to Cinnamon and laid in a supply of com- 
bustibles. I wasn’t goin’ to make a showin’ 
first, you know, hut was jest goin’ to be ready 
in case you started the hall. And so — wull, I 
done that, and, as I said afore, I’m ashamed 
of it.” 

Dominoes whistled. 

“ Oh, you needn’t be,” he said, carelessly. 
“ I done the same thing.” 

3 


Ill 


THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 

His “ Official Christmas ” 

T may seem odd to you that a boy 
of nineteen should be selected as 
guardian of the peace in a com- 
munity of bearded men, but that is 
exactly what happened at Gingerbread’s last 
municipal election. Moreover, it was a unan- 
imous sentiment that did it, and some weeks 
had elapsed after Jason was installed before 
there arose a discordant note. 

“ Don’t take it that I’m complainin’,” ob- 
served Mr. Hank Driscoll, Mayor of the camp, 
and also proprietor of the “ Gavhart Lode,” 
to the customary group of his fellow-citizens 
assembled for the evening in front of the cabin 
grocery — “ I say don’t take it I’m dissatisfied 
at all with the service he’s givin’ us, but I must 
say that I’m afeard he’ll weaken. Hot very 
30 




THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 

soon, p’r’aps, and maybe never, if the p’tic’lar 
occasion don’t happen to rise, but I must say 
that it’s my opinion he’ll drop some of his sand 
some day. He’s so young and tender, you 
know.” And the Mayor, hardly expecting a 
response, squinted thoughtfully at the horizon. 

Whereupon Mr. Pete Larkin, the grocery- 
man, came out of the store with a tobacco-box, 
on which he very nicely edged himself into the 
panorama. 

“ Possibly young, but by no means tender,” 
said he. “ Did he weaken much when the stage 
was overhauled last month ? Sho’d say he 
didn’t. He went right after the thieves, an’ 
tho’ one of ’em was an ole acquaintance of 
his, he nailed him jest the same, an’ fetched 
him right in to jestice.” 

“ Aw — I ain’t lookin’ at it exactly that way,” 
said the Mayor, hastily. “ I’m thinkin’ of 
somethin’ kinder different from that, which I 
can’t just describe. Por instance, if one of 
us old-timers here should happen to need the 
attention of a sheriff, and weren’t disposed to 
receive him peaceably, don’t you think there’d 
be a time for hesitation and a little droppin’ of 
courage ?” 

Mr. Larkin thought not. If necessary, he 
31 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


said, Jason had the power to appoint any 
number of deputies to assist him in a matter 
of that kind, which flattened the Mayor’s 
argument so effectually that he subsided, con- 
vinced still that he had not made clear what 
he meant. 

Perhaps we can gather from him, however, 
that there was floating in the air of Ginger- 
bread a doubt as to the young sheriff’s moral 
strength in the case of certain unlooked- 
for events, though so far he himself had re- 
ceived no inkling of this doubt, and certainly 
had given no cause for its existence. He 
knew that he had been elected because every- 
body liked him, and in consequence followed 
his duty as carefully as he had sworn to 
follow it, reverencing deeply his oath of of- 
fice. 

Nevertheless, the doubt continued to grow 
and flourish, until he settled it the night of 
the trouble between Mose Darcy and J ake Pom- 
eroy, both men of standing in Gingerbread. 
They quarrelled, and Darcy received a slight 
wound in the arm. The sheriff required no 
deputies to assist him, but took each of the 
belligerents by the shoulder and quietly march- 
ed them to the little log jail at the upper end 
32 


THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 


of town. It cost him an effort, though, as he 
afterward told old Burbank, the trapper from 
Deer Creek. 

“ They were both my friends/ 7 he said, “ and 
I was tremblin’ all the time for fear they’d 
take offence, hut we talked friendly all the way 
to the jail.” 

Poor Jason! It had been a sorer trial than 
he himself cared to admit. He had felt very 
much like waiving the arrest and laughing the 
quarrel aside, but the duty of a sheriff was too 
glaring. Yet they were citizens of such prom- 
inence! It had almost taken away his breath 
to arrest them, and had people only known it, 
he was white with anxiety during the tramp 
jailward, and thought the matter over long and 
carefully after bolting the door on his pris- 
oners. 

In the silence of his quarters that evening 
he still lingered in doubt. 

“ What ’ll folks say ? What ’ll they think 
of it?” he wondered. 

As for Mayor Driscoll, he thought well 
of it. 

“ A brash youngster, after all,” said he to 
himself. “ Another performance like that, and 
I’ll vow we couldn’t have a better sheriff.” 

33 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Of the general effect, however, Jason had not 
time to judge before he was called on a mission 
of greater importance. 

It happened that the night after this was 
Christmas eve, and he lay awake, wondering 
in what pleasant manner he might spend the 
next day. He remembered that Christmas Day 
used to be to him a period of joyousness, but 
in late years it had not seemed such a happy 
institution. For the first time he thought Gin- 
gerbread a desolate community. Certainly it 
was no place to spend a holiday, so he would 
ride over the mountains on the morrow and 
visit Brother Bob, who hunted for a living in 
the woods above Cottrel’s Gulch. 

In this way he mused, until there came a 
great hammering at his cabin door, and he 
heard the tread of numerous hoofs and boots 
outside. Wondering, he stole to the entrance, 
swung it open, and at once faced a crowd of 
furious men. 

A motley score they numbered, and some 
were mounted. Mr. Montgomery, president of 
the Miners’ Savings-Bank, rode at their head 
in his shirt-sleeves. 

“We want you, youngster!” he cried, bran- 
dishing a torch frantically above the crowd. 

34 


THEY CONFRONTED TWO MEN, ONE OF WHOM WAS BOUND TO A POST 






/ 












THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 


“ We’ve heard you could follow a trail in the 
dark.” 

“ An’ thet he kin, I swan !” hooted a deep, 
grinding voice from over to the left somewhere, 
and old Burbank came elbowing his way for- 
ward. There followed a fierce shout of affirma- 
tion, which finally died low enough to enable 
Jason to get hold of the trouble. The savings- 
bank had been “ looted.” At least half of its 
store of slowly earned gold-dust had been car- 
ried away, presumably in a big bag, and nat- 
urally it was the bearer of this bag who was so 
earnestly wanted. 

The sheriff made no complaint. This was 
the dawning of his Christmas ; but what of it ? 
He must work. His office was such that he 
must expect to work at all times. 

Accordingly, when the crowd moved away 
he moved before it, and, striking the trail over 
by the mouth of the gap, followed it up through 
the valley. The air was chilly and crisp, and 
a thin covering of snow lay upon the earth, 
fallen, no doubt, while the robber was in the 
bank, for it was certain he would not have will- 
ingly risked his trail on such a night. How- 
ever, with no light save that of the stars and 
a pine torch, it was difficult for the keenest 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


eyes to hold to the track. Yet Jason’s progress 
was steady. It even satisfied Mr. Montgomery, 
who rode close behind him, followed by one- 
half the population of Gingerbread — his trust- 
ing depositors! 

The banker showed wondrous patience. At 
first he had grumbled continually, but the 
movements of the sheriff had amazed him into 
silence. Jason advanced with regular step, his 
gaze always downward. At times he walked 
upright, and at times he stooped to examine 
more closely a detail in the snow. 

Presently, after having gone a mile or so, 
he became more interested in one of the foot- 
prints than he had been in any of the others. 
It seemed to be clearer cut, and told him more. 
Its full measurement stood out bolder, and he 
noticed that the mark of the heel was very 
broad, and, though shallow on one side, was 
deep on the other. The boy staggered sudden- 
ly as though shot. Mr. Montgomery, looking 
ahead, supposed he had stumbled, and cried 
for him to take his time. The sheriff rushed 
on to the next footprint, and — -yes, there was 
the same characteristic in the heel-mark — an 
unusual breadth, with the impression dimmest 
on the outer edge. Both boots, then, were worn 
36 


THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 


the same. Singular he had not noticed this 
before. With head lowered and lips clinched, 
he strode on. His torch hung low over the 
trail, which he inspected now with a new depth 
of interest. But one man in all that neighbor- 
hood wore his boot-heels down in such a man- 
ner, and that was Brother Boh. At first he 
could not credit it, but as the heel-prints re- 
peated themselves he saw there was no varia- 
tion in them, which of necessity strengthened 
his fears. 

For an instant the flash of amazement stag- 
gered him. He was stupefied. After that he 
moved dizzily on over the trail, wondering what 
best to do. The line of grumbling miners main- 
tained their patient pace, and the boy fancied 
they were trying to hurry him. Should he for- 
get his oath of office and throw them off the 
trail ? He wanted them to crowd him, but they 
would not. Deliberately, with almost a kindly 
feeling, they seemed to follow; and he remem- 
bered, too, that they were plundered men. 

The boy shuffled slowly on over the snow. 
There was a certain dogged yet defiant motion 
to his steps, and straining wdthin him a rancor- 
ous sense of indecision. Deeper than this dwelt 
a solemn appreciation of his oath. A vow to 
37 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


perform faithfully the duties of a sheriff he 
had taken honestly, in the presence of honest 
men, and this in his imagination now stood out 
as a thing of awful import. Being younger 
than most persons, it doubtless seemed mightier 
to him than it would have to others. Any- 
how, its weight grew heavier and heavier, until, 
like a thing of lead, it hung darkly at one end 
of the question in his mind. Suppose he were 
to break his oath ? Suppose he were to discard 
the track he was following and take up an- 
other ? It could be easily done. The trail was 
so dim in spots that he alone might discern it, 
and the line of growling men that zigzagged 
in his wake would gladly turn in a new direc- 
tion. But in case he did this, what dread 
calamity might befall him as a consequence? 
What unseen force might come out of the mist 
and smite him heavily? 

The boy moved slowly along over the snow. 
Two miles farther. His look now was not 
always down, but occasionally wandered from 
side to side. At times he walked several yards 
without heeding the trail, and at times halted 
on his knees in the snow to puzzle over some- 
thing already plain to him. This gave him 
time while his feelings raged. First he would 
38 


THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 


think of the moving men behind, and their 
diabolical patience, and then of the man ahead. 
Next he would look at the trail — the communi- 
cating line between the one and the other, and 
think of himself chosen to interpret it. And 
this was Christmas morn! 

The sheriff lowered his torch and dragged 
its lighted end in the snow. Then he waited 
until his followers came up with him. Mr. 
Montgomery at once reached his side. 

“ Hullo, my boy !” he called, cheerfully. 
“ Torch gone ? Take mine.” 

And the sheriff again moved off across the 
mountains. They must now be almost to the 
end of the trail, he thought. The robber, trav- 
elling only since the snow had fallen, could not 
be a great ways off. Three years before the 
sheriff would have cried. As it was, a furtive 
fretfulness soon took hold of him, and, peering 
warily about, he began to enfold in his fancy 
various distorted things. A bowlder on his 
left or right he regarded as a part of that power 
which would swallow him in case he failed to 
heed his oath, while the sides of the canons, 
rising from twilight into shadow, were to him 
like great, gray wings of might. He hated 
them. Indeed, he hated everything that was 
39 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


large and dark. Most of all he hated that long, 
irregular procession grumbling ever in his wake. 
Its persistency fretted him. It rose and fell 
and curved and crooked until its motions were 
mindful of some great creeping reptile. Its 
jagged lines, dimly woven into the night, were 
like the angles of a dragon. Two torches 
gleamed at the head of the column, and they 
were eyes. Hideous eyes. They kept steadily 
in his path, glowering at him. They pursued 
him always, and at times came closer, until 
they could hover near his heels, and there they 
hung and blazed and blazed. 

The boy suddenly began to walk swiftly. 
With long, quick steps he moved in and out 
among the bowlders, for the trail to him was 
plain, and there was no need of lagging. When 
his followers came close he moved all the fast- 
er, until even those mounted wondered at the 
speed. 

In this way a number of miles were quickly 
covered; and finally, after curving round the 
sides of several hills, the sheriff stood at the 
top of the path leading down into CottreTs 
Gulch. With an elbow on a bowlder he stood 
there, looking down. The darkness about 
him was giving place to the pale gray of a 
40 


THE SHERIFF OF GINGERBREAD GAP 

mountain dawn. Below him, at the foot of 
the path, he could see a lonely log cabin. 
Its door was closed, but above the sod chim- 
ney a rift of smoke rose slowly through the 
mist of distance. And this was Christmas 
Day. 

The youth turned suddenly and beckoned to 
the men who were following to come on. He 
then entered the path, and in a kind of blind 
frenzy strode swiftly down the 'side of the 
gorge. Soon he was at the rocky bottom, and 
the citizens of Gingerbread filed carefully down 
after him. Two bounds then carried him to 
the cabin door, upon which he began to beat 
savagely with clenched hands. Mr. Mont- 
gomery and all the miners listened. 

“ Who’s there ?” called a quick voice from 
within. 

“ The sheriff of Gingerbread !” thundered 
the boy. 

To the surprise of every one, the door was 
at once opened, so suddenly as to cause the 
sheriff, whose weight was against it, to stumble 
over the threshold. Immediately he rose, to 
confront two men, one of whom was bound to 
a post, and whom he had never seen before. 
The other — a young fellow, with a round, 
41 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


freckled face — stood smiling in the centre of 
the room. 

He was dressed in hunter’s garb, and said, 
cordially, as he thrust out a hand : 

“ Hullo, J ason ! Merry Christmas ! Hard- 
ly expected ye so soon. Headed ’im off fer 
ye ” — with a gesture toward the prisoner — 
“jest above here, on the ridge. I’d started 
to pay ye a visit, ye see, an’ had got as fur 
as the outskirts o’ your camp when I see ’im 
scootin’ out o’ the bank with a bag. He wuz 
hurryin’, too, I tell ye, and guv’ me no time to 
roust ye. So, as he goes one way, I goes an- 
other, an’ by cuttin’ back across the hills I 
fetches up ag’inst ’im right here by home. But 
ye showed up quick, didn’t ye? Cracky, yes! 
Ye must ’a’ follered ray trail !” 


IV 

CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 

In the Camp of Screaming Horse 

Skyrocket Ranch was noted 
J| r F It throughout southern Dakota in the 
g 1 2 earlier days for the fertility of its 

pasture range and the great herds 
of cattle that roamed over it, carrying on their 
quarters the well - known two - star brand that 
testified to their ownership. 

When J acob Hopkins first settled in one 
of the river-bottoms of the Dakota Territory 
his ranch was naturally invested with the 
name of its owner, which it kept until one 
Fourth of July, when young Frank Hopkins 
came home from a cattle - sale at Yankton, 
bringing with him several packages which he 
had taken pains to keep without the circle of 
the camp-fire on the preceding evening when 
43 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


the returning cowboys had gone into camp for 
the night. 

After the sun had disappeared behind the 
hills to the westward of the ranch, and the 
stars had begun to peep out one by one from the 
summer sky, Frank proudly opened his closely 
guarded packages and exhibited to an eager 
group of cattlemen and Indian helpers a gen- 
erous assortment of firecrackers, bombs, and 
rockets. 

While the display was at its height, and the 
heavens were sprinkled with quickly vanishing 
red, blue, and orange colored stars, a tall figure, 
crowned with an imposing head-dress of feath- 
ers and wrapped in a gayly decorated blanket, 
strode into the group and approached the boy. 

“ How ?” said the individual. 

“How?” replied Frank, shaking the sav- 
age’s hand. “ Glad you came, chief ; thought 
you’d forgotten my invitation. Sit down and 
see the fun.” 

The Indian grunted in acknowledgment of 
the welcome, and without further ceremony 
squatted on the ground and viewed the ex- 
hibition without an expression of satisfaction 
or astonishment beyond an occasional deep 
grunt when an unusually noisy bomb exploded 
44 


CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 


or an extra-brilliant galaxy of stars burst in the 
sky. 

Screaming Horse, the Sioux chief, lived with 
a small branch of his tribe in a few wretched 
tepees just beyond the range, coming with them 
every summer to the river to fish, and incident- 
ally to help in the cattle round-up so as to ob- 
tain the wherewithal to purchase enough of the 
white man’s fire-water to keep them in a state 
of happy oblivion for the following week. 
That is, the humble followers of Screaming 
Horse did the work under his scornful super- 
vision; and after the chief had received the 
whole compensation in the name of his tribe, 
and had exchanged it for several suspicious- 
looking demijohns at the trader’s store, he 
would return to bis camp and graciously per- 
mit his subjects to enjoy his hospitality. When 
the revel came to an end, a straggling line of 
forlorn and demoralized-looking savages would 
creep back to the hills. 

The masterpiece of Frank’s collection, a 
monster rocket, had been reserved for the clos- 
ing of the exhibition, and preparations were 
now made to insure a successful sending-up of 
the fiery projectile. When the boy approached, 
bearing the huge red, white, and blue rocket, 
4 45 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

the heretofore stoical chief could no longer con- 
ceal his curiosity and admiration. He strode 
to the place where it was being set up, and 
gazed covetously upon the gaudy object, even 
going so far as to pat it caressingly and grunt. 

Frank thrust a lighted match under the 
gayly colored tube. A hissing stream of sparks 
shot downward, and with a terrifying scream 
and roar the rocket tore its way through the 
sky, leaving a burning trail behind it, and, 
mounting higher and higher and higher, at 
last hurst with the noise of a cannon and 
showered the heavens with floating planets of 
every brilliant hue. 

Screaming Horse was completely overcome. 
“ Heap good !” he exclaimed, in tones of 
mingled awe and delight ; “ skyrocket heap 
good ; plenty fire ; plenty noise ; Skyrocket 
Ranch plenty heap good!” 

From that night the cowboys always called 
it Skyrocket Ranch, and the name soon fixed 
itself permanently upon it. 

For several years after Frank’s firework 
display fortune smiled on Jacob Hopkins. His 
cattle multiplied and his strong-box at the 
banker’s grew steadily heavier. Then the tide 
turned. 


46 


CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 


One winter continued with such severity and 
heavy falls of snow that the cattle could not 
scrape through the drifts to obtain the herbage 
beneath, and starved and froze by hundreds. 
Many of those that survived the winter died 
in the following spring of a disease conse- 
quent upon the privations and rigor of the pre- 
vious months, and, now that the summer had 
come, the few remaining steers were in danger 
of being either killed or run off by the Sioux, 
who had gone on the war-path a few weeks 
before. 

On this particular July morning Mr. Hop- 
kins with ten of his cowboys was to go over the 
range, collecting all the cattle to be found and 
driving them within an enclosure near the 
ranch for their better security. The five re- 
maining men, with Frank, now a stalwart 
youth of sixteen, were to remain and make 
preparations for receiving the animals when 
they were driven in. 

The news that had reached the ranch on the 
day previous concerning the outbreak among 
the redskins was to the effect that, although 
it had taken place at a somewhat remote point 
of the territory, yet it was feared that a gen- 
eral understanding existed among the tribes, 
47 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


and the cattlemen were advised to adopt pre^ 
cautions for saving life and property. For- 
tunatelv Frank’s mother and sisters were spend- 
ing the summer in the Eastern States, so there 
was no anxiety to be experienced on their ac- 
count; but a young cousin, a delicate-looking 
boy of twelve years, had come out to Dakota 
a few days before to rough it for a few months 
on his uncle’s ranch in hopes of building up a 
naturally weak constitution, and Mr. Hopkins’s 
parting injunction to Frank had been to look 
after and keep the lad Russell constantly by 
his side. 

After a hard morning’s work the men re- 
turned to the house for dinner, which being 
disposed of, they produced pipe and tobacco 
and proceeded to enjoy the remainder of the 
noon hour. Russell threw himself on a couch 
in one of the adjoining rooms, and when Frank 
went in to him a little later the tired boy was 
sleeping soundly, and looked so pitifully weak 
that he had not the heart to waken him. 

“ I guess I’ll let him lie there till he wakes 
of his own accord,” thought Frank. “ Ho harm 
can come to him here, and it will be better for 
him than to be out in the broiling sun. Be- 
sides, we shall be working only a short dis- 
48 


CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 


tance from the house, and I can ride back here 
every little while and look after him.” 

An hour later Frank galloped up to the 
ranch and, after hitching his horse, entered 
the house and made his way to the room where 
he had left the sleeping boy. 

The bed was empty. 

“ I say, Russell !” he called, loudly, “ where 
are you ?” 

No answer. 

Before he could again cry out a pair of 
sinewy arms imprisoned him, a gag was thrust 
into his mouth, and the next moment the room 
swarmed with Indians, hideous in war - paint 
and feathers, among whom was our old ac- 
quaintance, Screaming Horse, under whose or- 
ders Frank’s arms were securely bound, then 
he was hurried out of the house, mounted on 
his own horse, and led away in the direction 
of the river. 

After they had been riding about an hour, 
Screaming Horse rode up to Frank’s side and 
removed the gag, remarking, with equal brevity 
and directness, 

“ Make noise, get kill !” 

Shortly after this they were joined by sev- 
eral other Indians having Russell with them, 
49 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


and Frank was rejoiced to see that he had 
not been harmed, although realizing that they 
were probably reserved for a fate in compar- 
ison with which speedy death would be mer- 
ciful. 

All that afternoon they rode rapidly across 
the prairie in a westerly direction, and about 
an hour after sundown reached a wide, running 
stream fringed with clumps of trees. Here the 
horses were picketed and supper partaken of, 
Frank’s arms being unbound so that he might 
pick up the scanty portion tossed to him by the 
chief. 

As the two captives sat side by side within 
the circle formed by the redskins, Frank said 
in an undertone to the frightened boy, 

“ Try to keep your pluck up, Kussell, for 
these fellows don’t intend to kill us now, at 
any rate, and a chance may come for us to get 
away.” 

A few minutes later the chief bound Frank’s 
arms and legs, and left him lying on the ground 
beside the boy, whom he also secured in like 
manner. 

For the next two hours the Indians sat in a 
circle a few yards away, smoking their pipes 
and addressing one another in their guttural 
50 


CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 


tones, then they stretched themselves on tKe 
grass and slept. 

“Kussell?” whispered Frank. 

“Yes” 

“ Turn over softly so that I can whisper in 
your ear — so; now, when I turn on my side, 
put your mouth down and chew the little strip 
of hide that my hands are hound with, hut 
stop and pretend to he asleep if I draw them 
away.” 

~Not a savage stirred as the frightened lad 
gnawed at the strong hut slender cord, and 
never did sharp young teeth hite to better ef- 
fect, for they were as the teeth of the mouse 
in the fable that gave freedom to the hound 
lion. In ten minutes Frank’s hands were freed, 
hut he was obliged to wait a little until the 
blood circulated, then he quickly cast off the 
fastenings on his feet and released his com- 
panion. 

With wildly heating hearts the two prisoners 
crept noiselessly beyond the limits of the sleep- 
ing warriors, and stole out to where the horses 
were cropping the prairie grass. In the light 
of the newly risen moon Frank made out his 
own spirited animal near him, picketed close 
to the noble horse that the chief had ridden 
51 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


and which had evidently been stolen by the 
same dusky individual. 

To free the two animals and lift Russell 
across the back of one, then to vault into his 
own saddle, was the work of an instant. Bid- 
ding the boy walk his horse beside him, Frank 
swung round and watched the camp of their 
sleeping enemies until it had faded out, and 
such a distance had been put between it and 
them that the danger of awakening their foes 
by the sound of galloping hoofs was past ; then 
the horses were urged to their utmost speed, 
and kept at it until many miles had been cov- 
ered. After that they gave the animals a 
breathing - spell, and again pushed on, taking 
the trail they had passed over a few hours be- 
fore. 

When the sun rose ahead of them, and lit 
up the great, level prairie that they had fled 
across, Frank pointed ahead, with a cry of joy, 
to the sight of a band of cowboys sweeping 
furiously over the trail toward them, and at 
their head a powerful figure mounted on a coal- 
black stallion, which, even at the distance of a 
mile, he knew too well to mistake. 

Frank was almost a man, to be sure, but he 
was not too big to be clasped in his father’s 
52 


CAPTURED BY THE SIOUX 


arms a few moments later, and to mingle his 
tears of joy with those of the hardy plainsman 
whose son and sister’s child had been given 
back to him almost from the grave. 

It appeared that the ranch-hands had thought 
little of Frank’s absence until late in the after- 
noon, when their work was finished ; then search 
was made for him, which led to the discovery 
of Indian signs about the house. The trail 
had been followed a short distance, but as night 
was coming on the men feared an ambush, so 
decided to return and seek Frank’s father. 

When they reached the ranch Mr. Hopkins 
and his herders were seen driving the collected 
cattle into the enclosure prepared for them. 
As soon as he was acquainted with the fear- 
ful tidings, he would have started at once in 
pursuit, but was restrained by the sensible ad- 
vice of his men. It was pointed out that to 
follow the trail at night Avas an impossibility, 
and, although to wait for dawn was maddening, 
yet it was their only chance. 

By the time that the first streaks of dawn 
were gilding the eastern sky a resolute body of 
men, skilled in Indian trickery and warfare, 
were spurring madly along the trail. The rest 
has been told. 


53 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


The reason that the savages did not fire the 
ranch is that they wished to escape unnoticed 
with their prisoners. 

Several weeks later Screaming Horse and 
his braves were captured by the soldiers; but, 
instead of receiving the punishment they de- 
served, our kind-hearted government pardoned 
their many evil deeds and sent them to live 
on a reservation, where they were fed and cared 
for until the great Indian uprising under the 
celebrated savage Rain-in-the-Face, whose fol- 
lowers murdered the gallant General Custer 
and his noble Seventh Cavalry at the battle 
of the Little Big Horn on June 25, 1876. 


V 

A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 

“The Bravest Boy on the Plains” 

S HE winter of 1870 had been an 
unfortunate one for Erank Mead. 
The bank in which he had depos- * 
ited the money with which to pay 
off the mortgage on his farm had failed; the 
loan had been foreclosed, and the land that his 
father had tilled before him was to be given 
up to strangers. 

“ I tell you what, Haney,” said the dispirited 
farmer to his wife, “ this is what I get for 
having had too much patriotism. When the 
war broke out my farm hadn’t a cent of debt 
on it, but, after four years of going to ruin 
while I was away, I had to mortgage it in or- 
der to get it running again; then the money I 
saved to pay it off with was stolen from me, 
and — and — it seems as though everything’s 
against me.” 


55 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ Don’t despair, Frank,” said his wife; 
“ you did your duty, and I’m sure the Lord 
won’t desert us. He will help us out of our 
troubles in His own good way, dear, if we only 
trust Him.” 

Here the kitchen door was flung open to ad- 
mit a bright, manly lad of fifteen years, whose 
earnest gray eyes lit up with pleasure as they 
met his father’s look. Crossing the room to 
where he sat, he laid his hand upon his shoul- 
der, while he said, proudly: 

“ Dad, you ought to have heard w r hat was 
said about you this afternoon before the Board 
of Visitors at our school. When I was called 
to the platform to receive my diploma, one of 
the gentlemen spoke to Mr. Allison, our prin- 
cipal, asking him something about me ; then he 
turned to me and said out loud, so that every- 
body heard him : * So you are the son of Cap- 
tain Frank Mead ? I’m glad to shake hands 
with you, my hoy, for your father was one of 
the best and bravest officers in my regiment. 
Tell him that I shall give myself the pleasure 
of calling upon him this evening.’ I tell you, 
dad, it made me proud to have my father 
spoken of like that !” 

The ex-officer’s face brightened. 

56 


A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 


u It must have been Colonel Cruger,” he 
said ; “ I have not seen him since our regiment 
was disbanded in Washington, five years ago. 
How glad I shall be to see him and talk over 
old times!” 

Until late that night the two veterans sat 
together rehearsing the scenes in which they 
had figured, and mentioning softly the names 
of gallant comrades who had gone on before. 
During their talk the colonel learned of the 
misfortunes that had been experienced by his 
friend. 

Suddenly turning to his host, he exclaimed: 

“ I say, Mead, why not join my party ? I 
can offer you an agreeable position which your 
military experience qualifies you to fill, and the 
pay is sufficient to support your family com- 
fortably. Come, think about it, and talk it 
over with your good wife, and let me have your 
answer in the morning. I shall be detained 
here for a week, so that if you decide upon 
joining the expedition you will have consid- 
erable time to make all arrangements.” 

A family council, which lasted well into the 
small hours of the morning, resulted in Mr. 
Mead deciding to go, and in Drank obtaining 
the desired consent to go with him. When he 
57 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


at last tumbled excitedly into bed he resolutely 
decided that he would not go to sleep, fearing 
that if he did the morning would prove it to 
be all a dream. Nature at last demanded its 
tribute, and the curly brown head was resting 
quietly upon the pillow when the sun climbed 
high enough to look into the window of his 
bedroom. 

The following week was a busy one in 
the old homestead. Arrangements were made 
whereby Mrs. Mead was to spend the summer 
with a relative, and all the live-stock, with the 
exception of Frank’s pony and his father’s big 
black mare, were sold. It seemed to Frank 
that some disaster was certain to occur before 
the day set for their departure which would 
cause the enterprise to fall through, and it was 
not until the last tender good-byes had been 
said, the horses safely led on board, and the 
little post steamer steaming up the river from 
St. Louis that he felt the first symptoms of 
relief. 

Ten days later the gang-plank was thrown 
on shore opposite the stockade known as Fort 
Thomson, which was garrisoned by a regiment 
of United States infantry and several com- 
panies of cavalry. Here Colonel Cruger found 
58 


A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 


the remainder of his party awaiting him, and 
a few days sufficed to thoroughly organize the 
expedition. Major Montgomery, the command- 
er of the post, informed the colonel that, al- 
though the Indians had been quiet for some 
time in the vicinity of the station, it would he 
unwise to place any dependence upon those to 
be met with on the journey, and advised him 
to conduct the survey strictly upon the lines 
that would he followed in a hostile country. 

Early one morning six tent-covered wagons, 
known as “ prairie-schooners,” each drawn hy 
four mules, left Fort Thomson under an escort 
of forty men and rolled in a westerly direction 
across the plain. 

When a halt was made the following day it 
was figured that only twenty-five miles of the 
journey had been covered, so slow was the 
movement of the heavily laden wagons. Rid- 
ing hy the side of the guide hour after hour, 
Frank had been instructed in the rudiments 
of “ Indian signs,” and regaled with stories 
of hairbreadth escapes from the painted and 
feathered warriors of the plains. 

A short time after breaking camp the next 
morning Frank was sent back with a message 
to the driver of the rear wagon. He carried 
59 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


out his instructions and started to return, when 
his pony picked up a stone in his shoe. Dis- 
mounting, he attempted to pry it out, but it 
was so firmly wedged that the last of the train 
had disappeared over a rise of ground just 
ahead before he succeeded in freeing the hoof ; 
then, just as he was in the act of mounting, a 
scattering volley of rifle-shots and a series of 
blood-curdling yells rang out on the early morn- 
ing air. To reason that the train was attacked 
by Indians was the thought of a moment. Why 
it was that he did not obey a natural impulse 
to throw himself into his saddle and spur furi- 
ously over the hill in an attempt to rejoin the 
wagons he could never tell. Perhaps the seeds 
of Indian warfare planted only a short time 
before by the old plainsman w r ere already de- 
veloping. 

The crest of the ridge was covered with 
bushes, so that it was possible to creep among 
them and observe what was going on without 
betraying his presence. Leading the pony a 
short distance up the ascent, he quickly hitched 
the bridle-rein to a sapling; then, with wildly 
beating heart, he crept on his hands and knees 
until the summit was gained. Looking out 
through the foliage, Prank saw, about a quar- 
60 


A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 


ter of a mile away, several hundred Indians 
galloping about the wagons, which were being 
rapidly formed into a square to encircle the 
unhitched mules and unmounted horses. The 
redskins continually swept around the barri- 
cade, discharging arrows at the men, who blazed 
away at them in return, only to see the wily 
savages disappear behind the sides of their 
scraggy mustangs, to which they clung by one 
leg and arm until out of rifle-shot, when they 
would swing themselves upright, adjust new 
arrows, and charge furiously down upon the 
train, to let slip their poisoned darts and to 
immediately screen themselves again. 

After a time the Indians gave up this mode 
of attack and withdrew out of bullet range. 
From the number of the redskins and the 
comparative weakness of the exploring party, 
Frank reasoned that, even if the latter suc- 
ceeded in holding off the Indians in the day- 
light, they would surely be overpowered dur- 
ing the night by the savages creeping upon 
them unawares. To reach the train was impos- 
sible, for the instant that he would dare to 
leave cover the hawk eyes of the red men would 
detect his presence, and they would swoop upon 
him before half the distance between his hid- 
5 61 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


ing-piace and the wagons could be covered. He 
saw the Indians scatter into groups, surround 
the train at a distance, and dismount from 
their horses. They had probably determined 
to wait for the night to come, so that they might 
make their w r ay over the grass and gain the 
wagons unobserved. 

It was at this instant that a means of sav- 
ing the train flashed through the boy’s mind. 
The fort was twenty-five miles away, but his 
pony was fresh, and would carry him there in 
three or four hours. It was only nine o’clock, 
and if fortune favored him he could be at the 
stockade shortly after the dinner-hour. Before 
dark the cavalry could reach the spot where 
the explorers had been trapped. Trank knew 
that his father was nearly crazed over his ab- 
sence, and he stifled a desire to make some sig- 
nal to let him know that he was safe. Backing 
down the hill to where his pony was tethered, 
he flung himself across the saddle, drove his 
spurs into the sides of the spirited animal, and 
sped along the clearly defined trail that the 
wagons had made only a short time before. 
Soon he dashed by the place where the party 
had spent the preceding night. The fire over 
which their breakfast had been cooked was still 
62 


A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 


smouldering, and around it several coyotes 
were snarling and fighting over the remnants 
of the meal. Not until he had put a dozen 
miles between him and his starting-point did 
Frank rein in the gallant little horse; then he 
removed the hit, unbuckled the girth, and rub- 
bed down the panting sides with bunches of 
grass. Soon he was in the saddle again and 
speeding across the plain. 

That afternoon, as the sentinel paced the 
elevated platform inside the stockade at Fort 
Thomson, his attention was attracted by some- 
thing moving rapidly away out on the prairie, 
and which he soon made out to he a horse and 
rider coming toward the post. A few minutes 
later a foam-flecked pony with widely distended 
nostrils galloped through the postern-gate and 
stood with hanging head and convulsively work- 
ing sides, while its boy rider dropped to the 
ground and reeled toward the major’s quarters. 

The sun’s lower edge was kissing the top of 
the long prairie grass out on the western ho- 
rizon, and the long shadows were creeping 
stealthily across the plain— creeping as softly 
as the merciless redskins proposed to creep 
63 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

upon the surveying - party after nightfall. 
Within the barrier of the wagons a council 
was being held, and the guide was speaking: 

“ Thar’s no use a-denyin’ of it, Curnel ; 
we’re in er tight fix, an’ thar’s only one thing 
fer ter do ef we are ter make a try fer our 
scalps. We must leave ther wagons an’ try 
ter cut our way through ther varmints an’ git 
back ter ther fort. In course, some, and maybe 
all of us ’ll git our scalps lifted, but it’s bet- 
ter’n waitin’ here whar thar ain’t no show 
at all.” 

After some further discussion the guide’s 
plan was adopted and preparations made for 
the desperate undertaking. As though they 
anticipated the decision of the men they were 
hunting down, the redskins drew their lines 
closer around the besieged, doubling them 
where the trail led in the direction of the fort. 
As the little company stood within the square 
formed by the wagons, holding the bridles of 
their horses and waiting for the word of com- 
mand, a hand was laid upon the old guide’s 
arm. Turning, he met the captain’s sad gaze, 
while a choking voice asked : 

“ Where do you think my boy is ? Do you 
believe he is in their hands ?” 

64 


A BRUSH WITH INDIANS 


“ No, Cap’n, I tell ver man ter man I don’t. 
If ther red devils had er found him you’d ’a’ 
heerd some high old yellin’ over it, and we’d 
’a’ been treated to er sight of ther way they 
tortures their prisoners fer ter amuse their- 
selves. No, Cap’n, I believe ther young un 
is a-hidin’ of himself, an’ I only wishes as 
how he knowed ernough fer ter git back ter 
ther fort when it comes dark. Yer see, he were 
behind ther last of ther wagons, an’ — ” 

A volley of rifle-shots, a blast of bugles, and 
a thunder of countless hoofs cut the sentence 
short. There, bathed in the last rays of the 
sunlight and rushing down the slope of the 
hill where the mass of Indians had gathered, 
was an extended line of cavalry, before whom 
the redskins were fleeing with howls of rage 
and fear. 

“ Come on, boys !” yelled old Bill Baxter, as 
he spurred his horse over a wagon-pole ; “ let’s 
give some of ther devils er dose of lead as they 
go by !” 

Like a panorama the evil faces of the painted 
and bedecked savages swept wildly by the little 
group of white men, who poured into them the 
contents of their rifles and cheered whenever a 
redskin was seen to pitch from his pony. 

65 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


As the rear rank of the cavalry charged past 
the wagons, one of the horses was reined to 
the right and halted alongside of Captain 
Mead’s black mare. A sudden cry of joy, and 
Frank was clasped in his father’s arms. 

Around the camp-fire that night, when the 
story of the boy’s gallant ride was told by the 
captain of the troopers, such cheers and bravos 
were given that the sneaking coyotes fled af- 
frighted and with dismal howls across the 
prairie. Old Bill Baxter took off his coon- 
skin cap and remarked : 

“ I alius valleys pluck wheresome’r I find it. 
I axes ther company, an’ ’specially ther tender- 
foot hero of ther camp, ter accept my willin’ 
dispersition fer ther deed.” 

Colonel Cruger crossed around to where 
Frank sat by his father’s side, and, taking the 
boy’s hand in his, said, “ In the name of each 
and every member of the expedition, I ac- 
knowledge our indebtedness to you for sav- 
ing our lives, and, like our good friend Baxter, 
I uncover my head to the bravest boy on the 
plains.” 


VI 


LITTLE HAWK 


A Strange Buffalo-Hunt 



IHE old - time buffalo - hunt of the 
‘northern band of Blackfoot Indians 


8 * JJwas once made under unpleasant 

circumstances. It was always best 
for them to live close to the boundary-line be- 
tween the United States and the “ Canadas/*’ 
but never before had they quarrelled at the 
same time with the British and American au- 
thorities and with their ancient neighbors and 
enemies the Sioux. So there was no telling at 
what moment their buffalo-hunt might be turn- 
ed into something else — into being hunted 
themselves, for instance. Uot a warrior or 
squaw or boy among them, however, had any 
thought or fear of being hunted or “ run down ” 
by the buffaloes. Blackfeet were nowhere safe 
from the Sioux, but above the boundary-line 


67 



KING OF THE PLAINS 


they were safe from the “ bluecoats,” and be- 
low it from the “ redcoats.” Bisons were not 
safe anywhere, for it was time that all red 
men should “ jerk ” much meat and dry it for 
winter consumption. 

Just about the middle of the forenoon of 
one of the earliest days of that hunt a particu- 
larly enthusiastic Blackfoot boy was in the 
most unsafe place he could think of. It was 
the bare back of his own pony, and the pony 
was in the middle of a vast drove of bisons. 
All these were rushing madly in one direction, 
as if some sudden fear had taken hold of their 
shaggy minds, and they were sweeping the 
young hunter and his pony along with them. 
The excitement of following a fine, fat animal 
he had already half killed and wished to fin- 
ish had carried him so far in among the tre- 
mendous game that when the “ stampede ” 
came he could not get out. He was a fine- 
looking boy of fifteen or sixteen, and he was 
armed with lance and bow and arrows. He 
was not now trying to do anything with his 
weapons. He was watching the lumbering gal- 
lop of the wild-looking, angry, frantic brutes 
that were now crowding and wedging closer 
and closer on all sides of him. His pony was 
68 


LITTLE HAWK 


a good one, and sprang forward through gaps 
in the drove, snorting and trembling with fear. 
There was no telling at what moment one of 
those mighty bulls might turn upon him, and 
there could be no dodging in such a press. 

The boy knew well enough what would be- 
come of him under those trampling hoofs if 
once his pony should go down. No wonder his 
black eyes flashed around so eagerly over the 
tumult and toss and surge of that great brown 
flood of living creatures. On they went, and 
their very haste and rush was some small pro- 
tection to the young hunter. The maddest bulls 
were in too great a hurry to stop long enough 
to kill him and his pony. Every now and then 
sharply uttered guttural sentences burst from 
his lips, and some of these meant : 

“ How long can it keep up ? Stop some 
time ? Pony go down by - and - by ! Then ? 
Ugh!” 

There was a full hour of that awful riding 
across the undulating plain, bare of trees, and 
then from the crest of a roll higher than the 
rest could be seen a line of forest. 

“ Ugh ! Bad ! Break all to pieces !” 

He saw that the torrent of bisons poured 
right through the woods, and he knew that 
69 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


there would be no care taken by them to select 
a good path for him. He felt more and more 
strongly that he had better be almost anywhere 
else. Surely he would be crushed against trees, 
or scraped off by branches, or else the pony 
would stumble in the underbrush. One huge, 
black -maned, furious bison bull had already 
made several efforts to get alongside of him, 
but the woods looked even more terrible than 
the bull. 

Nobody anywhere knows where thoughts 
come from, and the Blackfoot Indian boy did 
not know what a thought was. He had never 
heard of such a thing, and so he did not know 
that it was a thought which came to him so 
suddenly. It came at the moment when his 
pony lowered his head to go under the sweeping 
branch of a great oak, and when the deep, 
hoarse bellowing on both sides of him made 
him shiver all over. 

In one instant the pony’s back was bare and 
the branch was occupied. The thought had 
said, “ Throw your arms around it, and let the 
pony go on, but stick to your lance and bow.” 

The next thought that came to him was ut- 
tered aloud : “ All go by. Never saw so many. 
Never see pony anv more.” 

70 


LITTLE HAWK 


That was enough to be gloomy over, but no 
rush of the bisons could break down the gnarled 
and rugged old oak, and it was well worth 
while to sit and see them go by. It was a 
wonder how they should all have become stam- 
peded at once, for the Blackfeet had assailed 
them only on one flank. The boy wondered and 
made guesses about it as he sat upon the branch, 
until, just as the tide of quadrupeds began to 
thin a little, there came an explanation. More 
wonder and trouble and peril came with it 
also. 

Clear and sweet and ringing, a few notes of 
bugle music poured in among the trees, and 
was replied to by thick-throated bellows of the 
vanishing bisons. Then a rider in a red uni- 
form gay with gold, followed by others not 
quite so gay, rode up to the very tree the young 
hunter was watching in. It was the bugler of 
a company of British cavalry, and once more 
the “ recall ” sounded far and near, for there 
was a national reason why red uniforms could 
ride no farther in that direction. 

One of the men who had pulled up near the 
bugler had been at once picked out as “ Bed- 
coat Chief,” and he now suddenly exclaimed: 
“ Orderly, see that little hawk perched in that 
71 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


tree. How did he get there? Take him. How 
I’ll find out where the whole band is.” 

“ Come down, little hawk !” shouted a sol- 
dier, riding as closely as he could to the boy 
on the branch. 

The boy looked at him and at the carbines 
and sabres and brilliant red uniforms. Of 
what use would be a lance and bow and ar- 
rows and one Blackfoot boy up a tree against 
all these ? 

Another thought came to him, and he in- 
stantly came down from the branch with a 
quick, lithe, springing movement. It did not 
put him upon the ground, but upon the back 
of the trooper’s horse, behind the saddle. The 
horse reared and plunged, but the officer re- 
marked : “ All right, McGinniss. You’ve got 
him. Bring your little hawk along. He has 
surrendered unconditionally.” 

“ We caught him right upon the line,” said 
another officer. “ Did you note that, Major 
Huntington ?” 

“ Certainly. I saw the surveyor’s mark 
on the tree, but the branch the little hawk 
was perched on came out northerly. We 
caged him on British territory, Captain 
Fay.” 


72 


LITTLE HAWK 


“ We can pump him when the interpreter 
comes up.” 

There was a slight mistake about that. The 
little hawk was as silent as any other untamed 
bird when the interpreter tried him. He had 
changed his perch because of a sudden idea that 
nobody would shoot at him while on the new 
one, but he expected to he killed sooner or later. 
That was his idea of war, and there was war 
between his band of Blackfeet and all these 
men in red uniforms. Of course, it was his 
duty to die without betraying his chief and 
people. 

That entire company of cavalry, with a score 
of scouts and half - breed Indians, had been 
hunting that drove of bisons, and the stam- 
pede was accounted for. The animals had run 
away from so much red, and from the bugle 
music. How enough killing had been done, 
and the men whose business it was were gath- 
ering the best pieces of the large “ game ” and 
carrying them to camp. The officers, and the 
men with them, and their prisoner, rode there 
at once. Hot a word did they extract from 
him on the way; but as they drew near their 
tents three ladies rode out to meet them. They 
were wives of the officers of that command, 
73 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


and the Blackfoot boy had never seen anything 
else so remarkable. 

Major Huntington shouted to his wife, 
“ Nelly, we’ve caught a little hawk!” And at 
that very moment he heard a voice of shrill 
astonishment behind him exclaim: 

“ Ugh ! Squaw!” 

The interpreter was a quick-witted man, and 
he instantly replied with a lot of information 
about those ladies. The Indian hoy could not 
help himself after that. In a moment more 
they were looking in his face, and laughing 
merrily. He answered any question they chose 
to ask him, and some of his answers were true. 
He knew he had not put in any facts that 
would help the redcoats to find his people, but 
he told the truth about losing his pony and 
getting into the tree. One of the ladies gave 
him a pair of old yellow gloves, and made him 
put them on, and they all asked him to come 
and have some dinner. He was sure the sol- 
diers were going to kill him by-and-bv, but he 
went and ate his dinner bravely. It was the 
most remarkable meal he had ever seen or eaten, 
and it spoke well for him that he pricked his 
mouth only once with his fork. He knew from 
the interpreter the name they had given him. 

74 


LITTLE HAWK 


and Major Huntington thought he knew from 
him that the Blackfeet were beyond the border. 
British cavalry could not follow them into the 
United States. 

“ We will keep Little Hawk in camp over- 
night,” he said, “ and see if we can get any 
more out of him. In the morning we can let 
him take care of himself.” 

That was precisely what Little Hawk meant 
to do at the first opportunity. He was at war 
with all that camp and the whole British army, 
except those very liberal “ squaws.” They gave 
him a new red-and-blue blanket, and hung a 
brass medal around his neck by a green ribbon. 
In spite of all that, however, the men in red 
tied him up at nightfall like any other wild 
captive. 

“Kill him another day. Ugh!” said he to 
himself. “ Can’t find Blackfeet. Little Hawk 
find. Ugh!” 

The camp-fires burned low toward the next 
morning, and a thick mist came crawling down 
over everything in preparation for an autumnal 
rain-storm not many hours away. Under the 
heavy cover of the darkness and the fog tough 
young fingers toiled at the secrets of hard knots 
till they solved them. There were soldiers 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


asleep close by, but the men had hunted vig- 
orously, and their slumbers were sound. 

One by one the knots gave it up, and then 
it was as if a shadow slipped away through the 
grass toward the “ corral,” where the spare 
horses were tethered. The sentinel on duty 
there heard no sound and saw nothing. Lit- 
tle Hawk had marked where to find a bridle, 
and he needed no saddle. The mist settled 
more and more heavily, and the remaining half- 
hours crept rapidly away. So did Little Hawk, 
until he deemed it safe to mount his new horse. 

“ Ugh ! Hot killed this time ! Little Hawk 
got horse. Worth ten ponies. Ugh!” 

He wanted to whoop, and had to hold his 
breath to keep it in ; but there was noise enough 
made on his account. When the bugler sound- 
ed the “ reveille ” that morning he was half 
asleep. In a minute more the whole camp was 
wide awake, and in another minute all the men 
in it were looking for the prisoner. 

“ Count the horses !” shouted Captain Fay ; 
and he had hardly said it before the corporal 
of the guard touched his cap to him with: 

“ One bridle missing, sir. One of the best 
spare horses gone, sir.” 

“ The Little Hawk !” exclaimed the captain, 
76 


LITTLE HAWK 


stamping hard with one foot only, because he 
had not yet pulled on his left boot. He was 
red in the face, and there was much red in 
many other faces in that camp, and there were 
many and varied exclamations. The ladies 
had a great many things to say. 

It was just so, later in the day, in a camp of 
Blackfeet Indians a number of miles away 
from any place where Major Huntington was 
likely to search for them. Every soul stopped 
work upon the buffalo meat they were “ jerk- 
ing,” and hastened to hear the story to be told 
by a boy who came riding swiftly in. It was 
a great story, but every word of it was true, 
and it had to be believed. 

At the end of it a gray-headed chief stepped 
out and carefully examined all that had been 
captured from the British army by the boy the 
British army had captured in the old oak. He 
loudly announced his decision : “ Little Hawk ! 
Big brave some day. Trade pony for horse. 
Keep horse. Keep blanket. Kunning Bull is 
a great chief. Trade Little Hawk another 
bridle for redcoat bridle. Ugh V 9 

That was the end of it, except that Little 
Hawk’s father was also a great chief, and 
traded a good ponv with him for the horse, 
6 77 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

and his mother traded an old blanket with him 
for the new one. Nobody could trade anything 
with him for the glory of his adventure, or for 
the brass medal, or for the fact that he had 
eaten one pale -face dinner with a knife and 
fork. The pony he lost was never heard of 
again, and may have decided to become a bison. 


THE LOST SCOUT 

In the Den of a Mexican Lion 



|OR several years after the Civil 
'War a familiar figure in Browns- 


ville was that of “ Texas Bill.” 


This man had been a scout in the 


army of General Canby, was a great favorite 
with all who knew him, and was seldom seen 
without a Spencer carbine, which he had 
brought out of the service with him, and used 
now to earn a living — for Bill was a famous 
hunter. 

So far as known, the kindly, whole-souled 
fellow had not an enemy in the world, and 
when, in the summer of 1872, he suddenly dis- 
appeared from his accustomed haunts, those 
interested in his fate supposed that he had 
tired of a wandering life and had gone back 
to the Eastern States. 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Such an abrupt move was quite in keeping 
with the man’s character, and no one troubled 
much about it, except a certain steadfast friend 
of his, one Captain Holden, who had engaged 
Bill to procure for him a jaguar pelt, for which 
he was to pay fifty dollars; and naturally he 
felt much disappointed and surprised at the 
non-fulfilment of the contract. 

In the month of September, 1878, this same 
Captain Holden, Sam Ogilvie, Ed Burton, 
Charlie Wishart, and myself, with our guide, 
Joe, six saddle-horses, and three pack-ponies, 
were encamped sixty miles from Brownsville, 
on the Bio Santa Juanita, a river flowing from 
the west into the Laguna de la Madre. 

We had come out for a big hunt, but had as 
yet seen no game, except one large buck, which 
Ogilvie cleverly missed while the animal stood, 
broadside on, at a distance of only eighty yards 
from him. This was doubtless quite satisfac- 
tory to the deer, but bade fair to be the death 
of poor Sam, who was likely never to hear the 
last of it. 

On the second morning of our stay, Joe 
roused us at daybreak by the startling an- 
nouncement that during the night one of the 
pack-ponies had been killed and half eaten by 
80 


THE LOST SCOUT 


some beast of prey, which he confidently af- 
firmed to be “ a Mexican tiger — what you folks 
calls a jaguar.” 

Five miles from us there was a heavy piece 
of chaparral, and in this, Joe said, the gorged 
brute would be sure to take refuge. In less 
than thirty minutes after hearing of our loss 
we had breakfasted and were on the war-path, 
bent on vengeance. 

“ What makes you think that a jaguar killed 
the pony, Joe? Might it not have been done 
by a puma or a wolf ?” asked Ed Burton as we 
rode along. 

“ Think ? Well, I don’t have to think. I 
seen the critter’s track, an’ I knowed it jest ’s 
easy as you’d know the print of your own high- 
heeled boot,” replied the old hunter. 

We had purposely refrained from bringing 
hounds with us on this expedition, as we all 
preferred still-hunting, but, on coming to the 
dense, tangled thicket where the marauder was 
supposed to lurk, we almost regretted the omis- 
sion, it appearing rather doubtful whether the 
cover could be beaten without the aid of dogs. 

However, after we had dismounted and se- 
cured our horses at a safe distance, Joe, carry- 
ing a lasso in his hand, led us in a silent search 
81 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


along the edge of the chaparral; but for some 
time even his keen eyes could detect no sign 
of any living creature having penetrated the 
mass of rank vegetation. 

We had gone, perhaps, half-way around the 
grove when we came to an old fallen tree, lying 
at right angles to our line of advance and 
reaching far into the thick bushes. 

On seeing this, the guide motioned us to 
halt, while he stooped down and crawled along 
the rotten timber, closely scanning its surface, 
and sometimes even touching it with his nose. 
Presently he backed out and said : “ We’ve got 
the varmint straight ’s a rifle-bar’l, gents ! This 
’ere’s his reg’lar run. I kin see his trail; an’, 
more’n that, I kin scent him. Jest squint ’long 
the openin’ for yerselves.” 

One after the other we did so, and, after 
getting used to the deep shade, could see, be- 
yond the end of the log, a kind of tunnel, evi- 
dently made by the numberless passings to and 
fro of some animal of considerable size. It 
was not a particularly pleasant-looking place 
to explore in search of a jaguar, but we all felt 
as if we had lost one and must find him. 

Sam Ogilvie and Charlie Wishart were left 
to guard the entrance, and the other four of us, 
82 


THE LOST SCOUT 


with Joe in the lead, crept cautiously in single 
file along the trail, which we found abominably 
hot, dark, and crooked. Indeed, in an hour’s 
hard work we did not advance in a direct line 
more than four hundred yards. Then we came 
to a tolerably open space almost clear of bushes 
and vines, but strewn thickly with great, ir- 
regular masses of rock and big bowlders, among 
which we could walk about with comparative 
ease. 

“ We’re close onto the critter now, I reck- 
on,” J oe whispered. “ Let’s spread out an’ 
hunt up his den. But keep yer eyes peeled. 
He’ll likely lay low, seein’ he’s chock-full of 
horse -meat, but these brutes is mighty on- 
sartin.” 

We scattered apart, and very carefully, in 
absolute silence, began to thread the rocky laby- 
rinth, each man holding his Winchester at the 
“ ready.” We had not been for five minutes so 
engaged, when Joe, with no attempt at con- 
cealment, shouted: 

“ I’ve treed the varmint ! Leastways, I’ve 
holed him, which is ’bout the same.” 

On hurrying up we found the old guide 
standing, with poised rifle, before a great pile 
of jagged rocks, at the bottom of which was 
83 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


an almost circular hole about two feet in di- 
ameter. 

“ Is the jaguar in there, Joe ?” asked Holden. 

“ Well, he ain’t nowhar else,” grinned Joe. 
“ The consarned fool wuz layin’ right out on 
the open sunnin’ of hisself, an’ blessed if I 
didn’t ’most tumble atop of him, but he dodged 
in ’fore I waked up enough to shoot. I reckon 
there wuz two fools met that time.” 

A consultation was now held, and, as it be- 
came at once evident that none of us so yearned 
for a jaguar as to be anxious to go in after 
him, some plan must be devised to bring him 
out. 

We examined the mass of rocks on all sides, 
and convinced ourselves that there was no other 
entrance to or exit from the cave; but at the 
rear we found a deep crack, which seemed to 
reach the interior, and I suggested that we 
should try to expel the brute by smoke. Joe 
highly approving the idea, Burton kindled a 
fire in the fissure, and rte saw with delight that 
the flame drew inward, and he then went hope- 
fully on, feeding the smudge with rotten sticks 
and leaves. The guide planted himself on the 
rock immediately above the entrance, close in- 
side the circumference of which he had ar- 
84 


THE LOST SCOUT 


ranged the loop of his lasso, while Captain 
Holden and I took up our stations about twen- 
ty yards in front. In less than ten minutes 
smoke wreaths began to creep out of the cave’s 
mouth, and these increased until it became cer- 
tain that no living thing could long remain 
inside. 

A few seconds more passed away, and then 
J oe yelled : “ Look out, gents, Ole Spotty’s 
goin’ to make a break ! I kin hear him sneezin’ 
like he had a cold in his head. When he does 
come, it ’ll be rayther kind of suddin, an’ if 
the lasso misses, you’ll have to shoot quicker’n 
lightnin’.” 

“ All serene, Joe! Let him come!” said 
Holden ; and even as he spoke we heard a half- 
screaming, half-choking cry, something between 
the midnight yowl of a quarrelsome cat and a 
tiger’s roar, and the next instant Joe was jerked 
from his coign of vantage, hurled to the rocky 
floor below, and knocked, for the moment, 
senseless. 

The lasso had caught the jaguar all right 
enough, but, unfortunately, Joe, who had 
twined the loose end around his own arm, 
did not make due allowance for the weight 
and momentum of the beast. Hence when the 
85 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


line tightened around its neck he was plucked 
like a bird from his perch. It was extremely 
lucky for him that as he fell the cord slackened 
and slipped off his arm, else he might have 
fared badly, for so dense was the smoke that 
Holden and I could not even see the mouth of 
the cave, much less venture to shoot. When 
we saw him fall, however, we both sprang for- 
ward, but only to be met and dashed to the 
earth by the jaguar’s outward rush. As the 
frantic animal bounded over our prostrate 
forms a blind stroke of his fore paw alighted 
by chance upon Holden’s left shoulder and 
tore through coat and underclothing deep into 
the flesh. But the captain, in the excitement 
of the moment, was quite unaware of the blow, 
and we jumped to our feet in time to see the 
agile monster gliding around the corner of a 
big rock, trailing the free end of the lasso after 
him. Having no time to raise our guns to a 
sighting position, we both fired from the hip, 
and both, of course, missed. Then, with some 
rather rash remarks, we turned to look after 
Toe. The tough old fellow was already sitting 
up, not much the worse for his tumble, though 
nearly choked by smoke and seeming a little 
dazed. On being led bevond the pungent 
86 


THE LOST SCOUT 


fumes, he quickly rallied, and, while skilfully 
dressing Holden’s wound, quaintly said: 

“ Gentlemen, if you happen to hear of any 
lunatic ’sylum or crazy showman what wants 
to buy a double-distilled, shuck-headed, nat’ral- 
born ijjiut dirt cheap, jest send ’em along. 
I’ll drop to the first bid. To think that ole 
Joe, what’s roped all kind of varmints, from 
grizzly b’ars to huffier calves, should be sich a 
onmentionable fool as to spect to stop a whop- 
pin’ big tiger ’without tyin’ his lasso eend to 
suthin’ heftier nor hisself, seems most orful 
redicklus; but I actilly reckoned to hold the 
critter long ’nuff for you folks to shoot.” 

How, when the jaguar made off, he did not 
take to his old path through the chaparral, but 
disappeared, as I have said, around a corner of 
the field of broken rocks, perhaps, in all, ten 
acres in extent. To the eye of an amateur he 
had not left the shadow of a trail, but Joe, 
being a trained tracker, could follow his course 
almost on a run. He led us now quite rapidly 
along the base of the miniature mountain, un- 
til we had nearly completed its circuit, when 
from a point only a few rods ahead we heard a 
succession of horrible, half - smothered yells, 
and, hurrying on, saw a strange sight. The 
87 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


enraged jaguar, with protruding tongue, flam- 
ing eyes, and head turned toward us, was pull- 
ing furiously on the rawhide rope, while the 
fatal noose was sinking deeper and deeper into 
his neck. 

“ Quick, men ! Quick and steady now !” 
cried Holden. “ Don’t miss !” 

The last word was barely uttered when our 
rifles came to shoulder, rang out in what seem- 
ed a single report, and the fierce, beautifully 
spotted beast, his skull pierced by four bullets, 
lay before us stone dead, while with cheer upon 
cheer we hailed the passing of his savage life. 

We found an explanation of this singular 
capture in the fact that in passing over a little 
mound of detached rock the trailing lasso had 
dropped between two lying at acute angles to 
each other, and, being drawn along to where 
they almost touched, the knot on the hand end 
of the line had caught fast and thus secured 
our prey. 

“ That gits me!” exclaimed Joe, 7 as he pre- 
pared to remove the magnificent pelt. “ If I’d 
knowed as much about fastenin’ a rope as this 
’ere tiger did, we’d bin saved a heap of bother.” 

While the skinning was going on, Burton 
went round to explore the cave, and was just 
88 


QUICK AND STKADY NOW! DON’T MISS! 















l 
























THE LOST SCOUT 


coming out of it again when we came up. Ed 
looked unusually serious as he emerged into 
the light, holding his hand closed over some 
small object. 

“ Boys,” said he, “ we’ve put an end to a 
man-eater, sure ! Look at this !” opening his 
hand, and showing us an old, battered silver 
watch. “ There are lots of bones of deer and 
other animals in there,” he continued, “ and 
at least one human skeleton. But my matches 
gave out before I could make a proper search.” 

Ogilvie and Wishart, having heard our first 
shots, now rejoined us, and it was decided to 
make a thorough exploration of the den. One 
by one we crept through the low passage, which 
proved to be about sixteen feet long, ending in 
a rough, roundish chamber ten feet or so in di- 
ameter and over five feet high. Notwithstand- 
ing some faint rays of light, which came 
through the crack where the fire had been, the 
noisome place was yet too dark to permit a 
view of its contents; hut by a continuous use 
of matches we managed after a while to find 
all the larger bones of the skeleton, a pocket- 
knife, an iron tobacco-box, the heel and sole 
of a hoot, and finally a rusty Spencer carbine. 
On seeing the weapon, Captain Holden started 
89 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


forward with a wondering cry, seized the gun, 
brushed the mould off its walnut stock, and ex- 
posed to view, deeply cut in the wood, this rude 
inscription : “ Texas Bill. His Gun.” 

The mystery of the broken contract was at 
last solved. 

“ Poor Bill !” said our profoundly affected 
friend. “ He was true, after all, and lost his 
life in trying to make good his promise.” 

Having no tools wherewith to dig a grave, 
we heaped a huge cairn of stones above the shat- 
tered remains; and then, in grateful recogni- 
tion of the old scout’s services to the Union, 
bred three volleys over his lonely sepulchre. 


VIII 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 

A Story of Lucky “Tenderfeet” 






1VEN" cannon whose charge often 
| costs five hundred dollars a shot 
l never carried so expensive a load as 
jthis old burned-out, sawed-off, muz- 
zle-loading shot-gun, with battered barrels and 
nipples half gnawed off by rust. 

If Peters had been a hunter, he never would 
have had that gun at all. If it ever saw the 
day when it was good for anything on four- 
foot game, that day was far past. It was now 
just a tool for short - range murder ; the tool 
some “ shot-gun messenger ” on the old overland 
stage (before that anaconda of a railroad swal- 
lowed the Santa Fe Trail) had carried to catch 
“ hold - ups,” and no longer fit even for that. 
You can know a man by the company he 
keeps, even in guns; and I assure you it is 
91 




KING OF THE PLAINS 


not wholly fanciful to say that no man who 
would have that sort of a weapon could he 
trusted. 

Yet Peters, sitting on his bunk in the log- 
cabin on the side of the Sierra Prieta, was 
giving that measly old relic such a charge as 
the finest two-hundred-dollar hammerless never 
dreamed of. First, he poured in two fingers 
of powder — two of Peters’s thick, hairy fingers 
— and wadded and rammed almost as if it had 
been a Fourth-of-July anvil. Then he pried 
up a big flat rock from the hearth, took from 
its hiding - place there a fat buckskin pouch, 
untied it, and poured from it something upon 
a folded newspaper — something yellow, and 
evidently very heavy. This he turned careful- 
ly into the right-hand barrel, and then “ sound- 
ed 99 with the rammer. Four fingers — two of 
powder, two of — of shot. A little more. Hm ! 
Five fingers and a half — good! As much now 
in the other barrel — a light, careful wad on 
top — and Peters capped the nipples and laid 
the gun under the bed, with one of those pe- 
culiar smiles which indicate that the smiler is 
more pleased than he expects some one else to 
be. It was precisely the smile I should look 
for on a man who had iust loaded his shot-gun 
92 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


with two hundred dollars in gold-dnst to each 
barrel. 

On the Sierra Prieta every one knew Peters, 
and no one knew Peters. It had been a good 
deal of a camp in its day, but now it was com- 
pletely “ played out.” The big mill down the 
canon was dismantled and falling to pieces; 
the rude little town of log-cabins was the pict- 
ure of desolation. A graveyard is not so lonely 
as an abandoned mining-camp. But it dies 
hard. The restless turn away at the first 
omen of “ quiet times.” As mine after mine 
loses the “ lead,” the better men begin, slowly 
and reluctantly, to drift to new districts. But 
there are always slow, stanch fellows, not quite 
so enterprising, men set on one idea and patient 
as death, who never give up. They will die 
there. Even yet in Sierra Prieta there were 
left a dozen starved claims, some with one 
owner, some two — tired, uncomplaining men 
who hoped against hope, and drilled and pick- 
ed and blasted, creeping on to try to find the 
golden vein again that once made the camp 
famous, but long ago “ pinched out.” 

Peters was here when the first of the others 
came. He was here still. In a mining-camp 
every one knows every one else; but it is not 
7 93 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


much of a place to meddle. Peters “ didn’t 
herd with anybody.” He kept away from 
other claims, and he had a way of keeping 
people away from his. He was just Peters, 
who owned the Blue J ay. Every one knew that 
he had recently returned from a month’s ab- 
sence — gone to Hew York to sell his mine, 
the Yankee of the camp averred; but the 
Yankee was only guessing. At any rate, 
Peters was back — big and bearded and surly 
as ever. 

There are a great many ways to hunt; but 
there is only one kind of game that people go 
shooting in mines — not with the giant-powder 
blast which every miner calls a “ shot,” but 
with a real shot - gun. That game is human. 
And yet there was not a soul in the Blue Jay 
when Peters strolled up the hill that morning 
with the gun on his shoulder, gave a quick 
glance all about, and disappeared in the dark 
mouth of the tunnel. Hot a soul; yet within 
five minutes there was the muffled report of a 
shot-gun far underground, and in a moment 
more another; and presently Peters emerged, 
tossing his candle aside, and rubbing first his 
ears and then his right shoulder, as though they 
hurt. 


94 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


It was the morning of the weekly stage to 
Sierra Prieta, and Peters was at the “ store.” 
An elderly man and a hoy of eighteen clam- 
bered down from the top of the old Concord. 
The boy carried a small valise in his hand, and 
there were some big trunks strapped behind, 
with plenty of other baggage “on deck.” No 
one had ever seen Peters so affable. 

“ Glad to see you, Mr. Harkness. Glad to 
see the both o’ you. Sorry there ain’t any 
wagons. But I reckon yo’ can walk up to the 
Blue Jay. ’Tain’t. but a mile. Yo’r baggage 
yo’ can jest leave yere with Stubbs, till I can 
hump it up. Let me carry yo’r grip, son ” — 
for Peters had no slow eye, and he saw that the 
valise in the boy’s hand was not to be left with 
the rest. 

“ Thank you ; I’m used to carrying it,” said 
Ralph, his fingers tightening a little on the 
handle. 

“ Thet’s right ! Good boy ! Wisht I had a 
boy like that, Mr. Harkness. Waal, we’ll set 
yo’r stuff in yere with Stubbs and strike out — 
for I reckon yo’r hungry.” 

An hour later the three sat down to the big 
box which did duty for table in Peters’s cabin. 

95 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Mountain-trout, “ frying-pan bread,” a broiled 
tenderloin of venison, and a cup of coffee con- 
stituted the breakfast. There was no question 
about it, Peters could cook, and his guests ate 
with unusual relish. 

^ Don’t smoke, hey ? Waal, set and rest 
awhile, anyhow,” said Peters, when the meal 
was finished. 

“ I think we’d better see the mine at once, 
Mr. Peters,” replied the elder man. “ My boy 
and I have come a long way to look at it, and 
perhaps we are impatient.” 

“ Oh, it ’ll keep,” said Peters, carelessly ; 
but as he turned toward the door there was a 
smile in his eyes — and not a winning smile. 
“ But just as yo’ say. It’s only a buck’s jump 
from the cabin. Yo’ see, I’ve got it handy to 
work and handy to guard — I don’t want no 
sech a mine a-layin’ round loose for everybody 
to gopher in. When yo’ see it, vo’ll say so, 
too. Gold ? Why, the Blue Jay’s that thick 
with gold yo’ could mighty nigh pick it out 
with yo’r thumb!” 

And so, indeed, they could. When the three 
came near the end of the tunnel, Peters stop- 
ped impressively. “ See this yere porphyry ?” 
he whispered, holding up his candle. “ I struck 
96 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


it a-cornerin’ yere, and it’s the richest vein I 
ever seen. Look!” He held his candle close 
to the wall and planted a squat forefinger, 
There was a dull-yellow stain — and yonder a 
little grain of yellow — and here another. Por 
fifty feet they moved slowly, peering at the 
walls; and everywhere the porphyry gave back 
that same rich flickering — here and there just 
glints, and again a golden grain as large as a 
pin-head. On both sides it was the same. 

“ Talk about yo’r veins !” cried Peters, in an 
exultant tone. “ Yo’ never heard of such a 
vein as this yere — four foot wide, sure, and 
jest stuck plumb full o’ gold. How there we’re 
square on the breast ” — and he held up his 
candle at the end of the tunnel. The gray rock 
simply sparkled with dots and grains of yellow. 
Mr. Harkness reached up with a little cry and 
picked at a nugget as big as a pea. It came 
out in his fingers, and he trembled like a leaf. 

“ I — think — we have seen enough,” he stam- 
mered. “ Come, Ralph. It makes me feel 
queer to he away underground so.” 

“ Oh, take it easy, Mr. Harkness. Look 
careful. I don’t want to sell no mine and then 
have a man kick about it. Look a’ there, son !” 
And he pointed the bov to another little yellow 
97 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


nugget in a crevice of the wall. “ That there 
rock *11 run ten thousand dollars to the ton, 
easy,” lie continued ; “ and if it wa’n’t that I 
h ain’t got money to work it right I wouldn’t 
sell no half-interest for the best hundred thou- 
sand you could shake under my nose. Why, a 
man gets in on this and it’s like finding a 
million in the road — that’s what !” 

“ But, of course, no one can tell how far it 
goes, can they?” ventured Ralph. 

“ Go ?” echoed Peters, with fine scorn. 
“ The further it goes, the richer it gets ; and 
it wouldn’t need to go fur, in that kind o’ rock, 
to ‘ fix ’ a man.” 

When they were in the cabin again, Mr. 
Harkness sank down upon the one rude chair 
with a little shiver. Peters leaned against the 
fireplace with a masterful pose. How big and 
strong and self - contained he was ! The boy 
stood by the rude window-ledge, handling a pile 
of specimens. 

“ It’s a hard trip, that there stagin’,” said 
Peters, pleasantly. “ And when anybody ain’t 
uset to it, it’s hard work goin’ through a mine. 
Yo’-all better rest to-day, eat hearty, and sleep 
hearty. And to-morrow we can see to busi- 
ness.” 


98 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


“ Ho ; I would rather settle this matter right 
now,” Mr. Harkness answered. Two red spots 
glowed in his cheeks. “ I came out to look at 
the Blue Jay, and to buy it if it suited me. 
I’m satisfied.” 

Ralph had turned from the window. “ Is 
there any hurry, father?” he asked, respect- 
fully. “ You know, we don’t know anything 
about mines. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to 
have it experted ?” 

“ Say, that boy’s a good one ! Better put 
him at the head o’ the firm ! I might be a-goin’ 
to do yo’. You’d better get an expert.” 

Peters wore a cool smile, but his voice was a 
little forced. 

“ Honsense!” said Mr. Harkness, sharply. 
“ Ralph is only a boy, and you must excuse 
him. Haven’t I seen the thing with my own 
eyes? I guess I know gold when I see it! 
Brass doesn’t generally grow in veins.” 

“ Oh, I could have put some brass in there, 
Mr. Harkness. You’d better have them nug- 
gets assayed. A stranger can’t be too careful 
out yere.” 

“ This is my business,” Mr. Harkness re- 
joined, irritably. “ I don’t need to ask any- 
body about what I see myself. Anybody that 
99 


KINQ OF THE PLAINS 


can swindle me is welcome to. You said in 
New York, Peters, you’d sell for fifteen thou- 
sand dollars. I suppose the bargain holds.” 

For once Peters hesitated. He had been 
playing with fire pretty freely, just to indulge 
a certain grim humor in him. But now? He 
looked keenly at his man. 

“ Waal,” he answered, slowly, “ it ain’t a 
circumstance for this mine. I’d hate to break 
a trade, but since I seen yo’ in New York 
the mine’s showin’ up about ten times as good 
as it did. I’d ought to have more’n that for a 
half-interest. I don’t like to be froze out of a 
mine that’s goin’ to pan out millions, jest be- 
cause I’m broke. I could sell a half for double 
that by goin’ to New York now. But you’ve 
come out yere — Wall, say fifteen thousand 
spot cash for a half-interest, and it’s a go.” 

“ It is a go!” cried Mr. Ilarkness, springing 
from his chair. “ I meant to buy the mine, 
but it wouldn’t be fair to ‘ freeze you out,’ as 
you say. Ralph, give me that satchel.” 

Ralph came forward slowly. His face look- 
ed much less boyish now. It showed noth- 
ing of the nervous impulsiveness of the older 
man. 

“ Don’t you think you ought to have control, 
‘loo 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


at least, father ?” he faltered. “ I’ve heard of 
ever so much trouble from even holdings.” 

But Mr. Harkness interrupted sharply: 
“ My son, don’t be impertinent. What do 
you know about business ? Now, Peters, write 
me a re — a hill of sale, I guess you call it — 
for fifteen thousand dollars for a half-interest 
in the Blue Jay. We can have Ralph and the 
storekeeper to witness it.” 

He unlocked the satchel, drew out and open- 
ed a sealed package, and began counting a fat 
roll of crisp bills, each with an ornamental C 
in the corner. Peters, with head bent low and 
sidewise over the table, was scratching labori- 
ously. As for Ralph, he had shrunk back to 
the window, and stood there stupidly fingering 
a fragment of porphyry as large as his fist and 
threaded with yellow threads. Then of a sud- 
den his eyes looked less stupid. He was scan- 
ning the lumps critically. 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Peters,” he said, slowly ; 
“ are all these specimens from the Blue J ay ?” 

The miner did not look up. “ Cert ?” he an- 
swered, curtly, forming another letter. 

“ This one, too ?” persisted the boy, walking 
over to the table and holding out the rock. 

“ Yes!” Peters snapped, and then looked up 
101 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


with a little change of face. He had been too 
quick. 

“ Because it doesn’t look like the same rock 
to me,” the boy continued. “ And the gold 
doesn’t seem to be in it the same way.” 

“ Ralph !” cried his father, sternly. 

But, though rather pale now, Ralph stood 
straight and held the specimen forward. 
“ Now does it, father ?” he pleaded. 

“ N-n — Well, I don’t know as it does look 
just the same,” the elder Harkness admitted, 
reluctantly. “ Perhaps we’d better examine it 
a little furth — ” 

But here Peters sprang to his feet in a fine 
rage. “ Say, you !” he growled ; “ that boy’s 
too new for these diggin’s. I don’t want no 
sech pardners. Just count me out! Take the 
mine or leave it — I won’t have no doin’s with 
people that think I’m cinehin’ ’em.” 

“ We have no such idea, Mr. Peters,” said 
Mr. Harkness, with dignity. “ I would like 
the mine, but I cannot pay more than fifteen 
thousand dollars for a half or for the whole. 
That will leave me with only a few hundred 
dollars in the world to operate with.” 

Peters paced the uneven floor. “ I ain’t no 
gopher !” he cried, disdainfully. “ I can find 
102 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


my way. Take the old thing! Fd sooner give * 
yo’ the Bine Jay offhand than stay in with any 
sech tenderfeet !” 

“ Just put it on paper,” said Mr. Harkness, 
coolly. “ You cannot give us the mine ; but 
if you will sell it for fifteen thousand dollars, 
here’s your money.” 

It was a week before there was any real 
work done on the Blue Jay. Peters had left 
almost before the ink was dry on the bill of 
sale, a mocking smile on his face and one hand 
clinched inside a bulging pocket. The Hark- 
nesses pottered at the shaft and knocked off 
a few specimens ; but they knew nothing about 
mining, and it was useless to proceed without 
some one who did. Stubbs was out of giant- 
powder, too — the poor camp used very little 
now, and Stubbs was too long in the West to 
carry an overstock. It was impossible to hire 
miners in Sierra Prieta. Ho one was left now 
save those who owned their claims — poor men, 
every one, but independent, as the American 
miner in the West always is. Didn’t Jonas 
own the Last Chance ? Mightn’t he “ strike 
it ” any day ? Of course, a man with millions 
just ahead would not go out to work for wages. 

103 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Every other man in camp was of the same at- 
titude, except Stubbs, who had his dingy store 
and post-office. And he was no miner, any- 
how. 

But after a tedious week two Mexican miners 
came up on the stage from Placerville, and a 
box of giant-powder cartridges, on which the 
expressage was three times the cost, and at last 
the ring of drilling began to he heard in the 
bowels of the Blue Jay. Then all was ready for 
a “ shot.” The quiet brown miners slipped the 
greasy cartridges into the drill-holes, and tamp- 
ed, and set the fuse, and lit it, and ran away. 
There was a stifled, persistent roar; the earth 
shivered; a strong wind came bellying out, full 
of stuffy odors, and the four men went in — 
two of them running. A heap of splintered 
rocks strewed the floor, and Mr. Harkness knelt 
among them, pulling them over nervously, and 
sometimes singeing his hair at the candle, he 
peered so closely. 

“ This doesn’t look very rich,” he muttered, 
disconsolately. “ Ah, here it is ! Pretty good 
—eh, Pedro?” 

The Mexican looked the fragments over dep- 
recatingly. “ No good,” he answered, polite- 
ly, showing the fresher edges where were none 

104 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


of the yellow stains which showed on one side, 
“ All on the old breast; no more inside.” 

u What do you mean 1 What difference does 
it make, so long as the gold is there ?” 

But Pedro shrugged his shoulders, in the way 
of his people when no other answer seems to fit. 

Another week went by, and the faces in the 
cabin of an evening were gloomy. The two 
Mexicans were working steadily, and Kalph 
was learning. Already he could swing a handy 
sledge in the drilling, and knew the simple 
tricks of firing a “ shot.” Mr. Harkness 
walked nervously about, inspecting the tun- 
nel and the work, giving and countermanding 
directions, and frequently going down to the 
store to consult with Stubbs, who was oracular 
in proportion to his ignorance of mines. It 
would never do to let a “ tenderfoot ” imagine 
that a man who had been West for six years, 
even as a storekeeper, didn’t know everything. 
If all Stubbs’s advice could have been taken, 
the Blue Jay would certainly have become the 
most remarkable mine on earth. 

It was only when the Harkness ownership of 
the Blue J ay was a month old that light came. 
A stained and shaggy man, who had evidently 
been at work more recently than at anything 
105 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


else, strolled up the trail on Saturday after- 
noon and made his way into the tunnel. 

“ Howdy ! I’m Adams ; got the Happy 
Thought, over yonder. Been yere six years, 
and hain’t made a grubstake out of it yet. But 
I’ll reach it. I heard you fellows ’d bought 
Peters out, and I thought I’d come up and have 
a look. Peters, he never would let nobody in- 
side the Blue Jay; but I reckoned you -all 
wouldn’t be so close-communion.” 

“ We are glad to see you, Mr. Adams,” said 
Harkness, despondently. “ We haven’t had 
time to be neighborly, but we want to be 
friends with the camp. Perhaps you can tell 
us what’s the matter in here. We are new to 
mining, and things don’t seem to go right.” 

“ Never did go right,” Mr. Adams observed, 
grimly, “ unless the Blue Jay’s different from 
the rest of the camp, and I’m keen to see. I 
been battin’ myself to reckon how Peters ever 
made out to sell.” 

“ Why, it was very rich when we bought. 
You could see free gold almost anywhere on the 
walls. But now we can’t seem to find any at 
all.” 

“ It was, hey? Waal, it sure has ceased con- 
tinuing.” Mr. Adams ran his candle critically 
106 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


along the walls and breast. “ I don’t see no 
more signs of a vein than there is in Stubbs’s 
counter.” 

“ It’s all a vein !” Mr. Harkness answered, 
rather sharply. “ I can show you, at the house, 
rocks that will go ten thousand dollars to the 
ton, they tell me. And hack here you can see 
some of it.” 

“ Who told you — Peters ?” asked Adams, 
dryly, as they walked back to the point the 
Harknesses had first inspected. “ Ya-as, I see,” 
he drawled, as Mr. Harkness pointed out the 
particles here and there. “ I never noticed 
quite that formation before, but I reckon I 
know it. Got any of the rock you took off 
the breast Peters showed you ? Let’s see 
that.” 

At the cabin Mr. Harkness handed him 
several specimens. He looked them over a 
couple of times, and laid them down thought- 
fully. 

“ Did Peters leave his gun when he quit ?” 
he asked. 

“ I guess so ; at any rate, there’s an old 
shot-gun here, but it isn’t good for anything. 
Why?” 

“ Oh, nothing much — only I reckon it was a 
107 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


pretty good gun to Peters. Can’t you see 
that gold never growed in them rocks ? The 
grains lay pretty nice, but don’t you see 
the streaks, like as if you had rubbed a 
piece of brass along the rock? How do 
you s’pose gold gets that sort of action in 
a vein ?” 

“ But look at this,” protested Mr. Harkness, 
who was very pale now. “ Isn’t this all right ? 
The gold is all through the rock.” 

“ Yes, the rock’s all right enough, and that’s 
the way that gold grows. But that ain’t out of 
the Blue Jay. Anybody could tell it come out 
of the Good Hope, down to Placerville. So did 
all the rest o’ this,” continued Adams, handling 
specimen after specimen from the window- 
ledge. “ Don’t you see it’s all wire gold — 
and the rock ain’t any more like Blue Jay rock 
than I’m like a house afire. Show me that 
gun.” 

He smiled grimly as the battered arm was 
handed him. “ That’s a great piece to go a-gun- 
ning with — but I reckon Peters knowed his 
game. Look a’ that!” He wet his horny sec- 
ond finger and twisted it around inside the 
muzzle. A black smudge came off on his fin- 
ger; but in the rim of the barrel several little 
108 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 

yellow streaks gleamed dimly through the re- 
maining dirt. 

“ But I — I — don’t understand yet,” stam- 
mered Mr. Harkness, going white and red by 
turns, while Ralph stood pale and still as a 
statue. 

“ I hope the hill don’t fall onto you,” ob- 
served Adams, evidently trying to conceal his 
contempt. “ Well, Peters, he got tired of de- 
velopin’ cold porphyry, so he turns in to work 
somethin’ easier. He must ’a’ gone down to 
Placerville and begged, borrowed, and stole all 
the gold-dust he could scrape — and there’s jest 
fools enough there to lend him. Then he loads 
up this scatter-gun with a few ounces in each 
barrel and turns loose on the walls and breast 
o’ the Blue Jay. Enough sticks to fool a green- 
horn — and there you are. If you’d ’a’ paid a 
hundred to a Denver expert, or any man that 
knowed anything about mines, why, I reckon 
you’d ’a’ saved mon — ” 

But Ralph cried “ Hush !” and sprang to 
catch his father, who reeled and would have 
fallen. They got him upon the hunk, and Ad- 
ams tore open his collar and chafed his nerve- 
less hands, while the boy ran for water. 

“ Reckon I was too suddent,” the miner 
8 109 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


grumbled, apologetically, to himself. “ But 
who’d V thought a grown man could get 
buncoed that easy?” 

Those were anxious days and nights for 
Ralph. Brain-fever is not a pleasant thing to 
watch anywhere, in any one; and alone in the 
mountains, far from doctors and nurses and 
good food and other facilities, it is doubly hard. 
A courier brought the doctor from Placerville 
on the third day. ITe made up medicines and 
gave directions, and promised to be back in a 
week; but to all Ralph’s pleadings he could 
only say, kindly : “ I’m sorry, my boy, but I 
can’t stay. There are a dozen people in Placer- 
ville that need me even worse. Your father 
will come out all right, I think — for you’ll take 
good care of him.” 

And Ralph did. Every day, too, Adams 
trudged up the trail, and fairly drove the boy 
out for an hour or two of fresh air, sitting by 
the patient meanwhile and ministering to him 
with awkward gentleness. Ralph laid off the 
two miners. “ I think the mine is no good,” 
he said to them. 

“ Ho, senor,” they answered, respectfully. 

“ Then why didn’t you tell my father ?” 

110 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


“ Had he not eyes ? And the sehor did not 
like to be told things.” 

The fever was spent at last, and Mr. Hark- 
ness opened his eyes with a soberer light in 
them. He was very weak, but the delirium 
was past. And yet the long days were hard 
to both father and son. They conversed 
little, for the thing that was uppermost in 
their minds must not be talked about 
now. 

But one day, as their eyes met, the thought 
was so close to the surface that they could not 
push it back. Ralph’s eyes filled, and his 
father laid a feeble hand upon his head. “ My 
poor boy !” he whispered, “ I have wasted it 
all! How can you ever forgive me? Your 
poor mother meant it to give you a good start 
in the world, and I have ruined you and my- 
self.” 

“ No, no, father ! Not that. I don’t mind 
for me. It was just a mistake. That rascal 
was too smart for us.” 

“ Too smart for me, you mean. You had 
better sense, Ralph, hut I wouldn’t listen. 
Your mother was the balance-wheel — so quiet 
and clear-sighted and observing — and I needed 
ill 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


that very thing. Oh, what a poor credulous, 
selfish fool !” 

“ Don’t, father !” and the boy laid his head 
to the one on the pillow. “ We can fight it 
out when you get well.” 

It was the day before they were to leave the 
Sierra Prieta forever. For all his courage, 
Ralph’s heart was heavy. Himself — well, he 
was young and strong, and he would have work- 
ed, anyhow. But his father had aged greatly. 
All that nervous buoyancy was gone, and he 
walked feebly up and down the little path by 
the door. 

“ I think I’ll say good-bye to the old hole in 
the ground, anyhow,” thought Ralph, in the 
afternoon, when his father was dozing. 
“ We’ve buried a good many hopes there, but 
somehow I’m sorry to leave it. I guess it has 
taught me something, too, and I don’t suppose 
the Blue Jay is to blame. It’s that wretched 
Peters I wish ill to.” 

He strolled , over to the tunnel, lighted a 
candle, and walked in. Here was where Peters 
had shown them the first nuggets in the wall 
— no danger of forgetting that place. Here 
was where they had begun work on the breast; 

112 


« 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 

a little jog in the tunnel marked that. This 
side he could still make out a few yellow 
streaks, and even two or three golden grains 
lodged in crevices. Ralph looked at them grim- 
ly. Beyond, there was nothing of the sort. 
They had tunnelled forty feet without finding 
a “ color.” Ralph smiled bitterly, and then 
began looking hard at the roof to his left. 

Precisely two feet from where Peters had 
left off work one of their blasts had gouged a 
deep splinter of rock from the roof, and 
queer shadows from the candle danced in the 
angles of the hollow. As the flame guttered 
and flashed up, there looked to he a streak across 
one corner of the cavity — two dark lines, no 
thicker than a knife-blade and not an inch 
apart. Ralph held up the candle close. There 
was a streak, and between the thin, dark lines 
was lighter rock, which caught the light here 
and there as if in tiny sparks. Hot drops from 
the candle fell on the boy’s face, but he did not 
notice. He was trembling violently. He knew 
very little about mines, but he was not dull. 
He brought a drill and pecked away fiercely 
at that narrow stripe in the rofek, and chipped 
out a sliver as large as his little finger. And 
when he came to the mouth of the tunnel with 
113 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

it, and held it up in the fair sunlight, and saw 
it pricked over everywhere with innumerable 
yellow particles, he started on a run for the 
cabin, whooping, laughing, and sobbing all in a 
breath. 

It was something like six months later that 
a couple of men who would have passed for 
tramps anywhere sat in a cheap lunch-room in 
Denver. The larger man, a bearded, surly fel- 
low, eyed the remains of their shabby meal with 
plain disgust. 

“ That’s a fine set-out, and it takes my last 
two bits,” he grumbled, fumbling a quarter. 
“ What a fool a fool is ! I’ve spent fifteen, 
thousand in eight months, and hain’t got a 
bean to show for it.” 

“ Yes, you did!” sneered the other. “ Fif- 
teen thousand monkeys !” 

“ Don’t get funny,” the first speaker re- 
torted, angrily. “ It’s a cold fact. I sold a 
mine to a sucker in the Sierra Prieta for fifteen 
thousand dollars in green hundreds, and it 
wa’n’t worth fifteen cents.” 

“ In the Sierra Prieta ? I was jest thinkin’ 
o’ goin’ up there. I seen in the paper this 
mornin’ that there’s a boom up there.” And, 
114 


THE GUNSHOT MINE 


picking up a paper, he found this item and 
handed it to Mr. Peters : 

“ A. J. TIarkness and son are in the city to 
arrange for the erection of a hundred - stamp 
mill on their property — the Gunshot Mine, 
formerly known as the Blue Jay. The mine 
was supposed to he worthless, but in the last 
few months the Harknesses have struck a two- 
foot vein of free-milling ore which runs away 
up in the thousands. It is understood that they 
have refused half a million for a half-interest 
in the Gunshot. There is a rush on, and Sierra 
Prieta bids fair to regain its old fame among 
our mining-camps.” 


IX 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG ” 

A Fight for a Mine 

OR a mining-camp, Oreville was a 
remarkably respectable and well- 
behaved place. The twenty cabins or 
more composing it had been built on 
a flat in Chloride Gulch, and, as no care had 
been taken to arrange them symmetrically, the 
camp had a somewhat tumbled - together look 
that was comfortable rather than ugly. Among 
the residents none was more respected by his 
neighbors than Tom Wilson, who lived in a 
cozy cabin, situated at the western extremity 
of the town, with his partner, Matt Powers. 
These two were industrious, steady-going fel- 
lows, engaged in prospecting. Their pet min- 
ing claim was called the Boomerang, and they 
would have told you, had you asked them about 
it, that it was going to be the best claim in the 
116 



THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG 


State of Colorado. They were perfectly hon- 
est in this opinion of its prospective value. 
Nearly every prospector has a claim which he 
imagines is going to he “ the best in the State, 
sir.” Everybody else in Oreville thought well 
of the Boomerang, too, and was glad that it was 
a good piece of property, both for the sake of 
the owners, who were so much liked, and for 
the effect it would have upon the value of other 
property in the neighborhood. The finding of 
one good mine gives a boom to an entire mining 
district. So it came to pass that the Boom- 
erang’s reputation as a valuable property spread 
far and wide. Its possession was almost the 
same as having a fortune, and it is quite likely 
that there were those who envied Wilson and 
Powers, its owners. 

Autumn had come, and Oreville was deserted 
except by Wilson and his partner. Winter in 
the mountains of Colorado is long and severe; 
deep snow covers the ground for many months, 
and makes communication between outlying 
camps and larger towns very uncertain. Pros- 
pectors and others who are occupied among the 
mountain peaks and gulches in summer-time are 
generally glad to flee to civilization before the 
first heavy snow comes. Sometimes, though, 
117 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


they determine to push work throughout the 
cold weather, and this is just what Wilson and 
Powers had done. Satisfied that their claim 
would eventually repay all their trouble, they 
thought it best to lose no time in developing it, 
and to work steadily until spring instead of 
stopping, as every one else in the gulch had 
done. 

The Boomerang lay near the crest of a hill 
which shut in the gulch on the south. The 
working shaft was not more than a thousand 
yards away from the cabin, and a trail could 
be kept open. Work could be carried on ex- 
cept in the severest weather. A little labor 
bestowed upon the cabin would make it weather- 
proof and comfortable at all times; so a good 
stock of “grub,” fire-wood, and giant-powder 
was laid in, and the two men prepared to spend 
a winter separated from their fellow-creatures. 
When once snow came to stay, Chloride Gulch 
would be completely shut off from civilization 
until late in the following spring. But this 
did not disturb the prospectors at all. Work 
would keep them busy. They had no fear of 
long and weary days idly spent. 

One day in October Tom set out for a town 
where he had business to dispose of before 
118 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG 


winter came on. He expected to be gone four 
or five days. This town was quite a large one, 
and was about eighteen miles from Oreville 
by trail. There was a wagon-road, too, but by 
that the distance was fully seven miles greater. 
The trail was always used by any one going 
afoot, and Tom went that way. He started 
after breakfast, and easily reached his destina- 
tion in time for dinner at one o’clock. His 
business was finished by the next evening, and 
he took a stroll after supper to see the sights. 
While passing along a brilliantly lighted street 
he happened to look through the glass door of 
a store, just inside of which stood a man whom 
he recognized as an old acquaintance. Tom 
joined him, and the tw T o chatted together for 
some time. Then the other man went into the 
street, and Tom, having nothing better to do, 
turned to read some handbills and theatre ad- 
vertisements which hung upon the wall. While 
thus engaged, his back toward the centre of the 
room, two men entered from the street. They 
were talking together earnestly, and, as they 
stopped quite near Tom, he could not help over- 
hearing part of their conversation. Great was 
his surprise to learn that it related to the Boom- 
erang. The speakers he immediately recog- 
119 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


nized as two men by the name of Donnelly, 
who had lived in Oreville all summer. Listen- 
ing, then, with all his might, Tom heard the 
following conversation : 

“ We kin jump that claim as well as not, 
Bill.” 

“ How d’ye know we kin ?” 

“ Why, there ain’t another man in Chloride 
Gulch but Wilson an’ his pardner. We kin 
run them off easy enough, and take possession 
of the ground.” 

“ Maybe they’ll come back.” 

“ They won’t come back. We’ll scare that 
notion clear out of their heads. We’ll run ’em 
into Kansas or JSTebrasky, if we have to, and 
they won’t never come back.” 

“ Well, it’s a mighty good claim, and worth 
getting.” 

“ Of course it is. Will ye jine us, Bill?” 

“ ’Course I will.” 

“ All right, then. Wetherby and Briggs are 
in the game, and we’ll all go down to the gulch 
to-morrow. After dark we can take possession. 
It will be easy enough to hold it afterward. 
Meet me to-morrow morning at — ” And here 
the two men moved toward the counter, and 
Tom could hear nothing more. But he had 
120 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG 


heard enough. The Boomerang was to he 
“ jumped.” 

Society in the mining regions is very much 
mixed, and includes a great number of men 
who are not at all particular as to the honesty 
of the methods they select for gaining wealth. 
Such are the men who “ jump ” claims — that 
is, unlawfully take possession of them by force 
or deceit — and such were the Donnelly broth- 
ers and their partners, Wetherby and Briggs. 
These four had occupied a cabin in Oreville 
not far from Wilson’s, and had tried hard to 
become intimate with him, no doubt with a 
view to profiting in some way by his owner- 
ship of the Boomerang. Wilson and Powers, 
however, never liked the “ Donnelly outfit,” 
and more than once exchanged views regard- 
ing them. 

“ They’re a bad lot,” said Matt one day to 
Tom. The objectionable four had just started 
homeward after making a visit which had done 
nothing toward lessening the unfavorable im- 
pression already made. 

“ That’s what they are,” replied Tom. “ I 
believe that fellow Wetherby is a gambler, or 
worse.” 

“ Briggs is no better,” added Matt, “ and I 
121 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


can’t help thinking that they both feel more at 
ease here in the woods than they’d be likely to 
in town, where sheriff’s officers are running 
about pretty thick.” 

“ You mean that they are hiding ?” asked 
Tom. 

“ That’s just what I mean.” 

“ Well, you may be right,” said Tom, 
thoughtfully. “ Anyway, I don’t fancy any 
of the outfit, and it seems to me we’d better 
give them a wide berth.” 

If nothing ever verified Tom’s suspicions 
that the “ Donnelly outfit ” deserved no higher 
esteem, the conversation he accidentally over- 
heard in the store proved that his neighbors of 
the past summer were claim-jumpers — robbers 
that meant to rob himself and his partner of 
property acquired by hard labor. His blood 
boiled at the thought, and his first impulse was 
to turn and defy the rascals to carry out their 
plot. A more sober second thought, however, 
told him that such a course would do him no 
good. In fact, it would make the jumpers more 
cautious, but it would not frighten them out of 
their scheme. For an instant he was at a loss 
to know what to do ; then stern resolution came 
to his aid, and he hesitated no longer. He 
122 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG" 

would defend his property with his life, if 
need be. 

There was not a moment to lose, and he 
quickly but quietly passed into the street. It 
was just nine o’clock. A great round moon 
looked down from the sky above, and flooded 
the country roundabout with a silver light that 
was beautiful to see; but in the glare that il- 
luminates the sidewalks of a large, bustling 
mining-camp, this calm, soft light could barely 
make itself seen. Tom knew, though, that it 
would make walking easy, and, with a glance 
behind to see if he were followed, he set off at 
a rapid pace. His destination was Oreville. 
Pausing only long enough to buy a lunch and 
cram it into his pocket, he dodged through the 
crowd which blocked the street, and made his 
way as fast as possible out of town. Once in 
the open country, his gait quickened. The 
night was cold and perfectly clear. Snow had 
fallen on the hills only a few hours before, and 
now lay like a light mantle, reflecting back the 
moonlight until the darkness all but disappear- 
ed. Tom sped along, up hill and down, for he 
was going to fight for his fortune. The thought 
nerved him to walk as he had never walked be- 
fore, and he felt no weariness. 

123 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Matt Powers was sleeping as only a tired 
and healthy man can sleep, when a vigorous 
pounding on the cabin door brought him to his 
senses, and caused him to sing out, “ Hello, 
there! what do you want 2” 

“ Let me in quick. It’s me, Tom, your 
partner.” 

Matt jumped from his bunk and opened the 
door. 

“ Matt,” said Tom, as he entered, too indig- 
nant to wait even one second before beginning 
his story, “ they’re going to jump the Boom- 
erang!” 

“ Who is ?” demanded Matt, firing up like a 
heap of dry shavings when a lighted match is 
applied. 

“ The Donnelly outfit,” gasped Tom, drop- 
ping on a bunk. “ I heard ’em talking about 
it, an’ they’re coming down here to-morrow to 
try it on.” 

He then related exactly what had happened 
in town, and repeated word for word the con- 
versation he had overheard in the store. He 
wound up by saying, “ How we’ve got a fight 
on our hands.” 

“ That’s wHat we have,” said Matt, “ and 
we’ll win it, too. They may carry me out 
124 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG” 

of this gulch, but they’ll never run me 
out.” 

“ And they’ll have to carry two of us out,” 
said Tom. “ I’ll never run away from the 
Boomerang. How come, let’s calculate a little. 
There will be at least four in that gang; we’re 
only two. Can we get any help ?” 

“ I don’t believe there is another man within 
ten miles of us,” answered Matt, “ hut we’ve 
got some pretty good friends here,” and, put- 
ting aside a gunny-sack that hung against the 
wall, he produced two sixteen-shot Winchester 
rifles. They had also two six - barrelled re- 
volvers, and could thus fire forty-four shots 
without loss of time for loading. “ That’s a 
good many bullets to go flying around loose,” 
said Matt, grimly. “ Somebody or other ought 
to get hurt if we fire ’em all off.” 

“ Those fellows will have as many more to 
let go,” remarked Tom. “ It ’ll be like the 
Fourth o’ July if we get right down to busi- 
ness.” 

“ Thought they could run us off easily, did 
they ?” said Matt, with a kind of growl. 
“ We’ll teach ’em a trick or two about run- 
ning.” 

Then followed a council of war to discuss 
9 125 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


plans for repulsing the enemy, and, having de- 
cided how to conduct the campaign, the two 
men went to bed for a few hours’ sleep. Day- 
break found them at breakfast, and immediate- 
ly after that meal they began to prepare for the 
fight which was expected to take place that 
night. Taking a suit of old clothes, they stuffed 
it with gunny-sacks and grass, until a fair im- 
itation of a human figure was produced. A 
head made of a bag was added, and on this was 
secured a hat which nearly covered the rudely 
painted face. The figure was cunningly made, 
and at a short distance would easily deceive. 
Strings were fastened to its arms, and a frame 
to hang it upon was made. An important part 
in the battle had been assigned to this mario- 
nette, and nothing must he neglected that could 
help to make the part successful. This having 
been completed, Tom and Matt carried it all 
up to the Boomerang shaft. Depositing their 
burden behind a large rock, they next took a 
survey of the ground. 

They stood in a “ park,” or clear space, on 
the hilltop. Heavy timber approached to with- 
in one hundred and fifty yards of the shaft on 
all sides. The enemy, anticipating no resist- 
ance, would doubtless approach by the regular 
126 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG” 


trail leading up-hill from Oreville. They could 
not gain the shaft without crossing the park, 
and in so doing must expose themselves to a hot 
fire. It was an admirable post to defend, and 
could be held against a large force. Matt and 
Tom took all this in at a glance. Their next 
move was to roll a number of large bowlders to 
the head of the trail, and arrange them there in 
a row. It was intended to start them down- 
hill toward the attacking force when the right 
minute should come, and the slope was so steep 
that they would roll with irresistible power. 

When the two men returned to their cabin 
they loaded rifles and pistols to the utmost, and 
made ready a portable electric battery, ordi- 
narily used for blasting rock. With this con- 
trivance a blast could be fired from a distance 
by means of connecting wires, which could be 
made as long as needed. It, too, was to be 
used in the coming battle. Having proved the 
battery to be in good order, the prospectors care- 
fully closed the cabin and started for their 
claim, carrying the weapons and electric bat- 
tery, together with some coils of wire and giant- 
powder. On their way up the hill they took 
pains to leave a great many footprints in the 
snow, thus making the trail look as though 
127 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


quite a large party of men had recently passed 
over it. 

The dummy figure was found undisturbed 
where it had been left earlier in the day, and, 
while Matt busied himself in preparing it for 
action, Tom planted two “ masked batteries,” 
one on each side of the trail. These consisted 
of two sticks of giant-powder held in place by 
fragments of rock and connected by wire with 
the electric battery in camp. 

All was now ready for the attack, and the 
garrison sat down to watch and wait behind a 
huge rock that was to be their fort. The frame 
from which dangled the dummy was simply an 
upright post having an arm, or beam, extending 
at right angles from the top. This beam pro- 
jected a couple of feet from behind the rock, 
but the rest of the apparatus was concealed 
from view. The dummy, hanging from the 
beam, could be made to walk out in plain sight 
of the besiegers, his motions being controlled 
by strings; but having nothing to do yet, he 
waited for the fight to begin without saying a 
word. The garrison, too, was quiet. Darkness 
came on, and soon a magnificent moon looked 
out from behind the mountain-range east of 
“ Fort Boomerang.” It lighted up the little 
128 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG 


park and Chloride Gulch, and showed Ore- 
ville in the distance, but no sound was heard 
in any of these places. Nine o’clock came, then 
ten, then eleven. Tom and Matt began to won- 
der if all their preparations had been made for 
nothing. They began to grow weary as mid- 
night approached. The moon was well up in 
the sky, when from Chloride Gulch came the 
sound of voices. The enemy had arrived and 
was about to begin the assault. 

The Boomerang’s defenders glanced at each 
other, then at their weapons and defensive 
preparations, and waited in perfect silence. 
The would - be claim - jumpers, on the other 
hand, evidently thought it unnecessary to con- 
duct their movement cautiously. Not looking 
for resistance, and expecting an easy triumph, 
they moved along talking and laughing. In the 
still night air their voices could plainly be 
heard at the fort. On reaching the trail, 
however, this state of things was suddenly 
changed. The ruse of the footprints was suc- 
cessful, and the “ Donnelly outfit,” imagining 
from all these fresh tracks in the snow that a 
large force of men was gathered at the Boom- 
erang, began to wonder whether, after all, the 
capture of that claim was going to be so easy a 
129 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


matter. A council of war was held, and three 
men out of the four voted to abandon the field ; 
but the fourth, Wetherby, the greatest scamp 
of them all, suggested a cowardly, murderous 
scheme by which he assured the others of suc- 
cess, and once more they all advanced toward 
the Boomerang, hut this time without speaking 
a word. The garrison in the fort, watching 
sharply for the enemy, at last saw four figures 
emerge from the timber and move silently 
across the park until within seventy-five yards’ 
range. Then Tom’s voice rang out clear and 
strong, “ Who goes there ?” 

The enemy halted, and a general cocking of 
pistols was heard. No answer being made to 
Tom’s challenge, he repeated it still louder. 
Wetherhv answered, “ Friends!” but his tone 
wasn’t very friendly. 

“ What do you want V 9 demanded Tom. 

Again all was quiet, and Tom presently con- 
tinued : 

“ I’ll tell you what you want. You want to 
jump this claim, and you can’t do it. We’ve 
got men here, and if you don’t skip in ten sec- 
onds, we’ll blow you all clean off the face of 
the earth. Now git !” 

Though somewhat staggered by Tom’s speech, 
130 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG 


the jumpers did not “ git ” immediately. A 
moment’s pause was followed by Wetherby 
saying, 

“ Hold on, pardner ; send a man out here, 
and let’s talk this thing over.” 

He thought his proposition would be ac- 
cepted, and intended to shoot down whoever 
should appear, and then with his party make a 
rush for the fort. Tom and Matt were not 
simple enough to be deceived in any such fash- 
ion, and allow themselves to be shot. The dum- 
my had been made for the very purpose of 
drawing the enemy’s fire, and the funny-look- 
ing object moved gravely forth from behind the 
rock fort and turned toward Wetherby. 

“ How what do you want?” asked Tom, 
speaking for the dummy. At the same time 
he pulled a string which raised one of the 
creature’s arms with quite a natural air. 

The apparition entirely deceived the jump- 
ers, and they answered with a volley. Several 
bullets buried themselves in the gunny-sack in- 
testines of the unhappy dummy, which was 
instantly allowed to fall down. At the same 
time Tom gave a groan that would have re- 
quired the last breaths of a dozen dying men. 
Much elated by their supposed murder, the be- 
131 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


siegers rushed forward to slay the rest of the 
garrison; hut they had hardly advanced thirty 
yards up the hill before a hot fire was opened 
upon them, and so rapidly did the garrison 
handle their firearms that the fusillade seemed 
to come from five or six men, instead of two. 
To aid the deception, the garrison shrieked and 
yelled in half a dozen different keys, and made 
noise enough for a dozen men. The attacking 
force, somewhat alarmed at the uproar, paused, 
and at that moment Matt started one of the, 
bowlders which had been placed near the trail. 
The stone rolled along, rapidly gathering way 
as it moved, and the men in its path ran aside 
to avoid it. 

Just then Tom touched off one of the masked 
batteries. Giant-powder explodes with a great 
noise, and the “ Donnelly outfit,” hearing a 
loud report on their flank, concluded they were 
attacked on that quarter by a park of artillery. 
This danger, added to the increasing shower of 
rocks and bullets that assailed them in front, 
dismayed them still more. Their nerve failed, 
and they gave up the siege. Some of them 
cried for quarter, but to no purpose. Bullets 
flew overhead, and bowlders skipping along the 
ground threatened to crush them. They were 
132 


THE SIEGE OF “FORT BOOMERANG” 

in a hot place, and in the hope of getting out 
of danger they moved to the left. Every mo- 
tion of theirs was plainly seen in the bright 
moonlight, and they had just got clear of the 
trail when hang! went battery ISTo. 2, and scat- 
tered snow and stones in every direction. This 
capped the climax. The besiegers were de- 
moralized. Cheers from the garrison, with an 
occasional command from the general to his 
mythical legions, completed their discomfiture. 
Believing that they were surrounded by an 
armed force, bewildered by noise, and terrified 
by the rocks that came crashing down-hill, they 
thought only of self-preservation, and rushed 
to find shelter in the timber, slipping down 
in the snow or stumbling over rocks in their 
flight. 

The rout was complete, nor did the fright- 
ened wretches cease running until Chloride 
Gulch lay well behind them. 

Matt and Tom, almost exhausted by their 
efforts and breathless from shouting and laugh- 
ing, exchanged congratulations upon the re- 
sult of the battle. They remained in the 
fort until morning, hut the “ Donnelly out- 
fit ” had had enough. They never again were 
seen near Oreville. The Boomerang remained 
133 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


in the peaceable possession of its owners, and 
was developed by them until it became a val- 
uable mine. During the summer following the 
great battle it was sold for what Matt called 
“ big money.” 


X 

THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 

How the Mine-Robbers Were Caught 

T was a clear, cold evening. There 
was splendid sleighing, and cutters 
and sleighs of various descriptions 
sped up and down the main avenue 
of a certain lively mining-camp in the Rocky 
Mountains, while crowds of men passed along 
the wooden sidewalks, walking fast, as a rule, 
to keep warm. In front of a large jewelry- 
store stood a boy about fifteen years old, deep- 
ly enough absorbed in admiring the gold, silver, 
and precious stones spread out behind heavy 
panes of glass to be indifferent to either cold 
or crowd. He was trying so earnestly to decide 
whether a large diamond breastpin glistening 
in a morocco case was preferable to the heavily 
chased watch alongside of it, supposing he were 
to have his choice from all that magnificent col- 
135 




KING OF THE PLAINS 


lection of valuable articles, that he did not ob- 
serve a man who came out of the store and 
looked at him keenly for several seconds, and 
he was a little surprised to feel a hand laid on 
his shoulder and to hear a strong voice say, 
pleasantly, 

“ Well, Jimmie, are you going to buy some 
Christmas diamonds ?” 

“ No,” answered the boy ; “ I haven’t any 
money. But how did you know my name ?” 

“ I didn’t know it,” replied the man, laugh- 
ing. “ I just guessed that a boy of your lively 
appearance would be called Jimmie, and it 
seems I was right. Now, Jimmie, would you 
like a sleigh-ride this fine night?” 

“ You bet I w r ould !” responded Jimmie, 
eagerly, in the slang that is common in mining- 
camps. 

“ Come on, then, and you shall have a good 
one.” 

And the man, advancing to a team of black 
horses standing by the curb, quickly untied 
them and took his seat with Jimmie, who had 
already scrambled into the sleigh to which the 
horses were harnessed. Wrapping himself and 
his young companion in warm fur robes, of 
which there were plenty, the driver chirped 
136 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 

briskly to his team, and in two minutes the 
avenue, with its glare and bustle, lay far be- 
hind. In front, only a mile or two away, was 
a great valley, and beyond that a huge moun- 
tain-range glistening in the moonlight. Snow 
covered the entire country, and Jimmie could 
see almost as well as in daytime. He was de- 
lighted with the view, and so pleased with his 
position that some time passed before he noticed 
how quietly the sleigh moved onward. There 
were no bells on the horses. This was a sur- 
prise and a source of regret. He pondered over 
it for a while, and then said, “ I should think 
you’d have bells with such a fine turnout as 
this.” 

“ Oh, I’ve got bells,” answered the driver ; 
“ but one of the buckles was broken, so I didn’t 
put ’em on to-night.” 

This explanation was quite reasonable; but 
Jimmie wished the broken buckle had been re- 
placed by a new one. Bells add so much to the 
fun of sleighing. 

The blacks were a very fine pair, and for 
nearly an hour they spun along at a swift trot. 
At last they turned from the hard, level valley 
road and began to ascend a hill. 

“ I believe,” began Jimmie’s new acquaint- 
137 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


ance, “ that I’ll go up to a mining claim just 
beyond here and get some samples of rock. 
We’re so near it now, I can save making a 
journey from town on purpose.” 

“ All right,” assented Jimmie. “ I’ll hold 
the team while you get the rock.” 

A quiet laugh followed this remark, but 
there was no answer. In ten minutes more 
the horses came to a place where some mining 
work was being carried on, and were stopped. 
There was a shaft here and various piles of 
rock, with other things indicating that some- 
body was prospecting for mineral; but not a 
soul was in sight; not a sound broke the still- 
ness, save the horses’ panting. Jimmie’s com- 
panion jumped out and hunted about among 
the rock piles for a few minutes, and then went 
to the shaft, down which he peered curiously. 

“ Jimmie,” he said, turning toward the boy, 
“ I want some rock from the bottom of this 
shaft. Will you go down and get it for 
me ?” 

“ How ’ll I get there ?” asked Jimmie. 
“ There isn’t any windlass.” 

“ Ho,” replied the man ; “ it has been taken 
away.” 

“ Is there a ladder ?” inquired Jimmie. 

138 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 


“No; and there is timber only part way 
down. The shaft is only twenty feet deep, 
though, and I can let you down by a rope and 
haul you up again easily enough.” He had re- 
turned to the sleigh now, and was groping about 
under the seat. Presently he pulled out a coil 
of rope and an empty bag. “ If you’ll go down 
that shaft I’ll give you five dollars.” 

He smiled as he said this, and Jimmie hesi- 
tated no longer. Five dollars was wealth to 
him, and there was no danger to be feared. 
The man was a big, strong fellow, who could 
hold two small boys on a rope. 

“ All right, pardner,” said Jimmie, saucily, 
“ I’m with you. Swing me off.” 

This speech produced another laugh, and a 
noose was quickly placed under Jimmie’s arms. 
The bag was thrown down the shaft, and the 
boy followed, but more slowly. Indeed, his 
companion lowered him, hand over hand, with 
ease. Once at the bottom, Jimmie began se- 
lecting bits of rock from different places, as he 
had been instructed, and while thus engaged 
was astonished to see the entire rope come 
tumbling about his ears, the man above hav- 
ing let go of his end. A trick of some kind in- 
stantly suggested itself to Jimmie’s mind, and 
139 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


he looked upward to remonstrate, but could see 
no one. He dimly heard shouts, however, and 
pistol - shots, and the conviction forced itself 
upon him that he had unwittingly taken a 
hand in some unlawful proceeding and been 
caught like a rat in a trap. 

His first impulse w T as to call for help, but, 
reflecting that that might get him into trouble, 
he sat down in a dark corner of the shaft and 
waited. In a few minutes strange voices were 
heard above, and then all was quiet again. 

“ If ever a fellow was ‘ in a hole/ ” solilo- 
quized Jimmie, when his patience finally gave 
out, “ it is me, and how I’m going to get out is 
more than I know. That big fellow brought 
me here to hook some specimens from this 
claim, and somebody ran him off. I’ll bet 
he’ll never think of the fix I’m in, or the five 
dollars he promised me.” 

But it was of no use to waste time in re- 
grets, and Jimmie turned his thoughts to mak- 
ing an escape from his prison. If he could 
reach the shaft timbering overhead, it would be 
easy to climb out on that, but the lowest timber 
was too high to jump to, and, though he threw 
one end of his rope up in the hope that it would 
catch somewhere, it always came tumbling back, 
140 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 


and at last that plan was given up in despair. 
Then he piled some pieces of rock in a heap, 
and tried to reach the timber from the top of it, 
but it was not high enough. There was a very 
large rock partly uncovered in the bottom of the 
shaft, and Jimmie thought that with that for a 
foundation the rock pile could be made a good 
deal higher, and he at once began to loosen it, 
using in his work an old pick that somebody 
had left in the shaft. 

After working for about half an hour, Jim- 
mie noticed that the rock settled a little, and, 
just as he was going to pry it from its bed, he 
was astonished to see it drop out of sight 
altogether and leave a ragged hole through 
which nothing could be seen but intense dark- 
ness. 

“ Well,” remarked Jimmie to himself, “ I 
have heard of the bottom of a shaft dropping 
out, but I never expected to see such a thing. 
It’s done, though, and now I’d better find out 
where it went to.” 

Some bits of rock thrown down the hole 
struck bottom so quickly that it was plain the 
cavity below could not be very deep, and Jim- 
mie, lying down and peering cautiously into 
the dark abyss, at last perceived the big rock 
10 141 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


about six feet from him. It seemed to be in a 
cave, but he could not be certain whether a 
natural or an artificial one. 

“ I might as well explore it,” he soliloquized. 
“ It may be a tunnel leading to the surface, or 
it may be a cave full of mineral.” 

The boy’s father, being a miner, had taught 
him a good deal about underground work, and 
taken him on one prospecting expedition, so 
Jimmie didn’t feel very uneasy in his strange 
position. His first move was to secure one end 
of the rope by piling rock on it, and then he 
lowered himself carefully into the hole. His 
feet touched solid ground almost immediately, 
and, waiting a few seconds to get accustomed to 
the darkness, he started slowly in a westerly 
direction. After going, as he thought, about 
forty feet, he came to a wall of rock with no 
opening at all in it, and he retraced his steps, 
passed under the hole, and continued on toward 
the east. He felt his way with extreme care, 
from fear of unseen openings, and at length 
saw a faint streak of light ahead. On coming 
to this, he found himself at the bottom of an- 
other shaft, and with great joy perceived a 
ladder leading to the world above. In a few 
seconds more he stood again in the calm moon- 
142 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 


light, very thankful to be out of his subterra- 
nean dungeon. 

Jimmie knew now that he had made his es- 
cape by means of a mining tunnel, but why it 
should have been driven under the shaft where 
he had been imprisoned puzzled him, and sup- 
plied food for reflection as he walked to the 
spot where he had left the team. He found no 
team there, but two men suddenly sprang out 
from behind a pile of rock, and, levelling rifles 
at him, called out, 

“ Throw up your hands.” 

“ Hold on, boys; don’t shoot,” cried Jimmie, 
pretty well scared now, and beginning to won- 
der where this night’s adventures would end. 
“ I haven’t any money — the man didn’t pay 
me.” 

Seeing that they were in no danger from one 
small boy, the men lowered their rifles, and 
one of them asked, 

“ What are you doing here, anyway ?” 

“ Why,” answered Jimmie, “ a big chap in 
a fur overcoat took me out sleigh-riding, and 
when we got here he offered me five dollars to 
go down that shaft and get him some samples 
of rock. He lowered me with a rope, and then 
threw the rope after me and ran away. I don’t 
143 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


know what his game was, but he left me in a 
hole, that’s certain.” 

“ What was his name ?” asked one man. 

“ Don’t know,” replied Jimmie. u I never 
saw him before to-night.” 

“ Look here, kid,” said the other man, in a 
threatening tone, “ we think you are lying. 
There’s a scheme a-going to jump our claim 
here, and it looks as if you were mixed up in 
it. Now we’ve got you prisoner, and if you 
don’t tell the truth we’ll make it hot for you. 
Who is putting up this job?” 

Jimmie knew very well that miners and pros- 
pectors were generally pretty rough men, who 
would not hesitate to take the law into their 
own hands, and he knew that he was in the 
power of these two fellows ; but, conscious of 
his own innocence in this matter, he felt little 
fear of serious consequences to himself if he 
persisted in telling the truth. 

“ Hope I may die, pardner, if I haven’t told 
you the straight truth,” he said. 

“ Then how did you get out of our shaft after 
you were left at the bottom of it ? There’s no 
ladder.” 

“ Got out through the back door,” answered 
the boy, grinning. 


144 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 


“ Look here, now,” exclaimed one man, angri- 
ly, “ we don’t want any funny business over 
this. Look out we don’t thrash the nonsense 
out of you.” 

“ You’ll thrash nothing,” retorted Jimmie, 
boldly. “ If you don’t know there’s a back 
door, or a bottom door, to your shaft, it’s about 
time you were told of it — that’s all.” 

He then related his underground adventure, 
and the story astonished his hearers beyond 
measure, for it at once became plain that they 
were being robbed of ore by the owners of the 
Comet, which lay east of their own claim, the 
Tiara. They had stopped work on their shaft 
just before cutting into the tunnel secretly run 
from the adjoining claim, and the Comet peo- 
ple, taking advantage of this circumstance, were 
diligently abstracting Tiara ore and hoisting it 
out of the Comet’s shaft. This trick has been 
played on his neighbor many a time by the 
“ honest miner.” 

“ Well, kid,” said Jack, as one of the men 
was called, “ you’ve let us into a great secret.” 

“ But if you’ve lied to us,” added Larry, the 
other man, “ we’ll bury you alive. If you’ve 
told the truth, we’ll give you something hand- 
some.” 


145 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ Go look for yourselves, if you don’t believe 
me,” replied Jimmie. 

As daybreak was not far away, an investiga- 
tion was quickly made, and Jimmie’s story con- 
cerning the tunnel was, of course, found true 
in every particular. Jack and Larry then laid 
a plan to catch the thieves. They first brought 
a small ore-bucket and a rope, and with these 
hoisted out the loose stuff which had fallen from 
the Tiara shaft into the tunnel, Jimmie being 
sent down to load the bucket. This move was 
to prevent the Comet men from suspecting any- 
thing wrong when they resumed work. Then 
some short boards were brought and lowered into 
the Tiara shaft, where they were used to cover 
the hole and exclude light from the tunnel. 

“ Now we’ll just sit on those boards,” said 
J ack, “ and when those precious rascals have 
passed underneath us we’ll drop in and have 
’em caged.” 

The men clambered down, and Jimmie low- 
ered their rifles to them. Then he concealed 
himself behind a pile of waste, but the Comet 
shaft was within range of his hiding-place. At 
about half-past seven two miners appeared and 
descended that shaft. Jimmie crawled out and 
warned his friends to be readv. 

146 


THE BOTTOM DROPPED OUT 


Jack and Larry waited silently until two 
men passed under the trap and began work in 
the “ breast ” of the tunnel. Then, with quiet 
but rapid hands, the watchers uncovered the 
hole and dropped through, bringing their cock- 
ed rifles to bear on the ore-stealers and crying, 

“ Throw up your hands !” 

“ Not much will we,” was the answer; 
“ you’ve got to take us if you want us.” 

“ If you move or blow out a light, we’ll 
shoot,” cried Jack. 

It was an intensely dramatic scene. The ore- 
stealers stood in a blaze of light coming from 
several candles hung about on the walls; they 
were at the mercy of those two men, whose 
rifle-barrels reflected the farthest-reaching rays, 
but, daring and unscrupulous, they refused to 
surrender. A terrible silence followed, which 
was broken by a shrill voice crying from above : 

“ Hold ’em down, boys — hold ’em down ! 
All the fellows are coming. They’re right 
here now 7 .” 

It was Jimmie’s voice. He had hastily slid 
down the rope and witnessed the summons to 
surrender. Fearing that there might be a se- 
vere and bloody battle in that dark tunnel, his 
ready wit invented the fiction of a large re- 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


inforcement close by, and it accomplished its 
purpose. The ore-thieves, who really had no 
firearms, gave up, and were taken as prisoners 
to the surface. Once there, they were filled 
with wrath at seeing how they had been duped, 
but it was then too late to resist. 

The end of it all was that the ore-stealers 
were tried and sentenced to pay for the stolen 
ore, besides undergoing a term of imprison- 
ment. Jimmie was rewarded with a pretty 
large sum of money and employment at the 
Tiara. He never again saw the man who left 
him in the shaft, but that made little difference, 
for, as he said himself, 

“ If he hadn’t done it, I’d never have dropped 
through the bottom of the shaft into such ever- 
lastin’ good-luck.” 


XI 


AN OUTLAW 

A Story of Jim-Ned Creek 

porch of Bishop’s store — the 
S ||heart, so to speak, of the Jim-Ned 
B 1 JJCreek settlement — was deserted, for 
^^^j^^the November day was bleak and 
raw. Half a score or more men lounged over 
the counters within, or sat silent and ruminant 
around the smouldering fire. Gideon Bishop, 
half hidden by his tall desk, was busy with 
his ledgers, hut he glanced furtively and frown- 
ingly now and again at his, guests. 

The Outlaw came up the road at a leisurely 
pace. She was a small mare, blue-grav in color, 
with a flowing mane and tail of fine, glossy 
black, much matted with cockleburs. She toss- 
ed her small head coquettishly in response to 
the neigh of welcome from the horses hitched 
to the saplings about the store, and picked her 
149 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


way daintily to the very edge of the porch, 
where she stood saucily expectant. 

“ Hullo! There’s that blue mitstang o’ 
yourn!” exclaimed Sam Leggett, jumping 
down from the counter. “ It’s been nigh onto 
two year sence she vamoosed , ain’t it, Uncle 
Gid? Where hez she been a-hidin’ herse’f ?” 

Mr. Bishop picked up a wagon whip, took a 
lariat from its nail on the wall, and stepped 
out upon the porch. 

“ So ! You’ve come back, have you, Lady ?” 
he said, with a grim smile. He reached for- 
ward as he spoke and attempted to slip the 
rope over the mare’s neck. She shook her 
mane gently, and^ dipping her pretty head, 
nipped his forearm with her strong, white teeth. 

At another time old Gid, stern and harsh as 
he was, might not have resented this playful 
salute, for the skin on his brown wrist was bare- 
ly grazed, but he was in no mood for such fool- 
ing now. He started back with a quick step, 
his brow reddened angrily, and the fire leaped 
to his deep-set eyes. He lifted the whip; the 
long, keen lash curled through the air and de- 
scended with a stinging sound upon the run- 
away’s shining flank. She reared violently, 
uttering a cry almost human in its indignant 
150 


AN OUTLAW 


protest; then she wheeled about and galloped 
away in the direction whence she had come. 

The men who had trooped out upon the porch 
at Mr. Bishop’s heels gazed after her until she 
disappeared in the creek bottom; then they 
slouched back to their seats. 

“ Jack broke that mustang hisse’f,” Joe 
Trimble presently remarked. “ I mind the 
first time he ever backed her. Jing! how she 
bucked l” 

“ Speakin’ o’ Jack/’ Newt Pinson ventured, 
in an offhand way, but not daring to look at 
Jack’s father- — “ speakin’ o’ Jack, ’pears to me 
it’s nigh about time we was huntin’ that hoy 
up.” 

“ Gentlemen,” said Mr. Bishop, in a loud, 
angry voice, “ you ’tend to your own business, 
if — you — please. J ack Bishop is nineteen year 
old, and full able to take keer of hisse’f.” 

These words penetrated through a half-open 
door into the family living-room hack of the 
store. On hearing them, Jack’s mother burst 
into a fresh fit of weeping, which the kindly 
neighbors hovering about her tried vainly to 
soothe. 

a He’s just as oneasy about Jack as I am,” 
she sobbed. “ That onliest child of ourn is the 
151 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


apple of his father’s eye. But it’s Gid’s pride 
as won’t let him give up that a Bishop can get 
lost. And everybody’s plumb afraid of him. 
Oh, my boy, my boy !” 

“ Don’t ye worrit yo’se’f into a spazzum, 
Susy Bishop,” said Granny Carnes. “ I ain’t 
afeard o’ Gid Bishop, ner no other male creeter. 
An’ I’ve give my orders to the hoys a-settin’ 
yander in the sto’. Ef Jack Bishop ” — here 
she raised her voice to its highest and shrillest 
pitch — “ef Jack Bishop ain’t inside this house 
befo’ candle-lightin’ to-night, them boys has 
got to tromp out an’ find him, an’ fetch him 
home, or not dassen to show their faces agin 
the len’th an’ bre’th o’ Jim-Ned.” 

“ Amen !” said Mrs. Leggett and Mrs. Trim- 
ble together. 

“ Double an’ thripple Amen !” added Mrs. 
Pinson, solemnly. 

There was, indeed, no small cause for anxiety. 
Early on a Tuesday morning young Bishop had 
started out afoot, with dog and gun, for a few 
hours’ hunting in The Bough — a belt of savage 
woodland which stretched away westward, with 
wide, solitary prairies on either side, to the 
chain of hills some fifteen miles distant. It 
was now Friday, past noon, and he had not 
152 


AN OUTLAW 


returned. Newt Pinson had met him at the 
crossing of Jim-Ned Creek half an hour after 
he had left home; he had not been seen nor 
heard of since. He had gone on alone ; for the 
dog, a half-grown puppy, had turned and trot- 
ted back, unnoticed, behind Mr. Pinson. 

“ Oh, if Josh was only with him!” moaned 
Mrs. Bishop, already alarmed, at the close of 
the first day. 

And Josh, the intelligent old hound, rubbed 
his head against her knee and whined softly. 

The lad — everywhere a favorite — had never 
absented himself from home before; and when 
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday came and went 
without tidings of him, the neighbors from up 
and down the creek began to gather at the 
store. 

They looked at the heavy sky, sunless and 
misty these four days past, and shook their 
heads ominously, whispering among themselves. 
The poor mother was wellnigh frantic with 
alarm. Uncle Gid alone maintained an air of 
obstinate confidence, in the face of which no 
one dared venture a move. 

“ Jack Bishop is full able to take keer of 
hisse’f,” he repeated, proudly, in answer to Mr. 
Pinson’s timid suggestions. “ Jack Bishop 
153 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

knows every inch of ground betwixt Jim-Ned 
and Rattlesnake Gap.” 

“ All the same, notwithstanding” whispered 
Granny Carnes in Mrs. Bishop’s ear, “ I’ve 
give my orders for candle-lightin’, honey.” 

But before candle-lighting Mr. Bishop’s as- 
sumed stoicism gave way. About sunset he 
arose and took his rifle from the rack above 
the door. “ Come on, boys,” he said, with a 
catch in his throat. And a moment later they 
were hurrying down the rutty road. 

At the Jim-Ned crossing the old man pausedj 
“ You go back, Susy,” he said, with rough 
kindness, to the frail little woman following 
a pace or two behind him. “ Go back, and stay 
with the women folks. You ain’t nowise fitten 
for this sort o’ thing.” 

Jack’s mother pulled the red knitted shawl 
closer about her head, and moved steadily for- 
ward. “ No, Gid,” she said, quietly; “I’m 
not going back — not without my boy.” 

He put an arm about h^r without another 
word, and husband and wife presently entered 
together the mysterious gloom of The Rough. 

An hour or two later Jack Bishop was lying 
on the open prairie, where he had thrown him- 
154 


AN OUTLAW 


self in a sort of (lull despair. His loaded gun 
lay beside him; bis empty wallet hung from 
his shoulder ; his face looked pinched and wan 
in the vapory moonlight. 

“ I crossed Jim-Hed,” he was saying to him- 
self, mechanically, for the fhousandth time ; “ I 
crossed the creek and came into The Rough. 
I left home Tuesday at sun-up. . . . That 
puppy ain’t worth shucks ; I wish I had brought 
old Josh! ... I killed three jack-rabbits in 
Buck-Snort Gully. By the big cottonwood — 
what did I do by the big cottonwood? Oh, I 
ate my corn-pone. Gee! how hungry I am! 
. . . Then I followed a deer and got into the 
prairie. Why, I know this prairie ’most as well 
as I know Jim-Hed! Yonder’s Rattlesnake 
Gap, and yonder’s The Rough. . . . And be- 
fore I knew it, it was plumb dark. ... I went 
back into The Rough and tramped and tramp- 
ed ; and the first thing I knew I was out on the 
prairie again. . . . I’ve be,en doing the same 
thing ever since, over and over. ... I haven’t 
seen a soul. ... If I could just glimpse the 
sun ! But seems like the sun never will shine 
again. ... I reckon I’m lost. . . . Yonder’s 
Rattlesnake Gap and yonder’s The Rough — ” 

He got up and staggered a few steps, then 
155 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


sank down again. He was a manly lad, and lie 
had borne with hopeful courage the hunger, 
cold, and loneliness of the long days and 
nights. But he was exhausted with fatigue 
and weakened by want of food; and finally, 
overcome by a sense of terror and desolation, 
he covered his face with his hands and groaned 
aloud. 

The painful throbbing in his ears sounded 
suddenly like the rhythm of advancing foot- 
steps. Something cold and moist touched 
his cheek; a warm breath mingled with his 
own. 

“ Why, Lady !” he cried, springing to his 
feet. Weariness and hunger and cold had van- 
ished in a trice. Laughing and crying by 
turns, he clasped his arms about the neck of 
the little mustang which he had fed and petted 
as a colt — the wilful Outlaw who had disap- 
peared into The Rough two years before. 

Fearful lest the mare should desert him 
again, he held her long mane with one hand, 
while with the other he groped, stooping, for 
his rifle. But the Outlaw apparently did not 
dream of flight. She stood quite still until the 
gun was secured and he had climbed with some 
difficulty upon her back. 

156 


AN OUTLAW 


“ Now, Lady !” he shouted, “ take me to Jim- 
Ned ! Carry me home l” 

Lady threw up her head, neighed, and moved 
obediently forward. She went at a swift walk, 
breaking at intervals into the long, swinging, 
restful mustang lope. 

“ But — you are going in the wrong direc- 
tion,” remonstrated her rider at the end of a 
few moments. He tugged at her mane, and 
endeavored to change her course. “ You are 
carrying me through the Gap. Jim-Ned is on 
this side. Back, Lady — hack!” 

The mare shook herself impatiently and 
pushed on between the pyramidal hills which 
loomed up on either side of the Gap, emerging 
into the open prairie beyond just as the moon, 
scattering the clouds at last, filled earth and 
sky with a flood of golden light. 

"Well,” said Jack, with a shiver of disap- 
pointment, “ you’ll take me somewhere, I reck- 
on, Lady. I can’t he any more lost than I’ve 
been for the last three days.” 

After a while, however, things began to as- 
sume a strangely familiar look. “ I’ve never 
been west of the Gap before,” he muttered, 
“ but — yonder looks like Comanche Mound. 
And, sure as shootin’, here’s Matchett’s Pond! 

11 157 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


Ah !” he added, after profound reflection, “ I 
am east of the Gap now. I must have been all 
this time, somehow, on the other side.” 

His conjecture was correct. Stumbling un- 
wittingly through the narrow Gap in the dark- 
ness of the first night, and deceived by the 
prairie and woodland beyond, he had there con- 
tinued the incessant and bewildered round into 
which he had fallen when he had first lost his 
bearings. 

“ It’s all clear as daylight now,” he cried, 
joyously. “ You’ve got a heap more sense than 
I have, Lady! Couldn’t fool you with roughs 
and prairies! And now I think I will stretch 
my legs a little, and rest you, niy beauty.” 

He slid to the ground and limped along be- 
side his four-footed friend, leaning against her, 
and chattering boyishly as he went. 

“ ’Tain’t more’n ten miles to Bishop’s store 
now. And mother ’ll be on the porch, late as 
it is, looking out for me. Poor mother, I know 
she’s been fretting ! And she’ll have the coffee- 
pot on the coals. And father ’ll be pretending 
to scold. But, shucks! he won’t mean a word 
of it. Seems like ” — a lump arose in the boy’s 
throat — “ seems like I never understood father 
before, nor loved mother half enough! . . . 

158 


AN OUTLAW 


Where have you been all this time, anyhow, 
Lady ? Why, what a scratch youVe got on your 
side! Run against a mesquit thorn, eh? It’s 
all bloody. I’ll doctor it the minute we get 
home. Hello!—” 

One of his legs seemed all at once to have 
grown shorter than the other, a loud report 
rang in his ears, a thrill of intense agony racked 
his whole body, and he dropped fainting to the 
ground. He came to himself a moment later 
to find the blood pouring from a wound in his 
left shoulder, and when he attempted to rise 
and draw his leg from the deep rahhit-hole into 
which he had stumbled a sharp pain warned 
him that both knee and ankle were sprained or 
broken. He ceased his efforts and fell back, 
staring helplessly up at the sky. 

The mustang, who had darted away at the 
discharge of the rifle, had returned, and was 
standing beside him. 

“ Don’t go, Lady,” he implored, catching at 
her mane. “ I’ve shot myself, I reckon. I 
can’t move my leg. Don’t, don’t leave me, 
Lady !” 

The mare thrust her nose reassuringly 
against his face. 

The blood, which he tried vainly to stanch 
159 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


with his free hand, oozed from the gunshot 
wound and formed a red puddle about his head. 
He felt himself growing dizzy and nauseated. 

It was about an hour past midnight, and 
the vast, moonlighted prairie was hushed and 
still. Suddenly a curious sound troubled the 
silence — a trampling, tearing noise, accom- 
panied by a hoarse, confused roar. Jack lifted 
his head a little and looked. 

His heart stood still. 

A small herd of cattle roving about the 
prairie, moved by the curiosity inherent in ani- 
mals, had drawn near, and, excited by the smell 
of blood, were pawing the earth, bellowing with 
rage, and circling ever closer and closer about 
the helpless lad. He could see their wide horns 
glistening in the moonlight. “ Mother ! Fa- 
ther !” he breathed; and, dropping his head 
back upon the cold turf, he closed his eyes in 
instant expectation of death. 

But he opened them again. For the Outlaw 
had whirled abruptly from her post beside him, 
and charged, with a snort, first into one section 
and then into another of the infuriated circle. 
Surprised and daunted, the cattle retreated a 
short distance, stopped, and stood still, uncer- 
tain and dumb. 


160 


AN OUTLAW 


Hardly, however, had the boy drawn a breath 
of thankfulness and relief, when there was an- 
other mad rush upon him; and again the gal- 
lant little mustang, plunging and snorting, held 
his assailants at bay. 

Over and over this assault and repulse were 
repeated. The half-unconscious lad turned his 
terrified eyes from side to side, groaning with 
pain and lifting his voice brokenly in encour- 
agement of his protector. 

But she, too, was beginning to be spent and 
exhausted. He stroked her trembling foreleg 
with his hand as she hovered over him in a 
moment of respite. “ Poor Lady !” he whis- 
pered, faintly ; “ it’s mighty nigh over with 
both of us, I think. You’d better save yourself 
now, Lady. You can’t do anything more for 
me. Don’t cry, Lady. Why, Lady, your eyes 
are just like mother's !” 

And with a sob he lapsed into utter oblivion. 

The searching-party came out of The Rough 
in the early dawn, and stood huddled together, 
forlornly silent, on the prairie ridge that sloped 
gently away to Matchett’s Pond. They were 
foot -sore and disheartened after their long 
night’s fruitless quest. 

161 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ Ain’t that Matchett’s bunch o’ cattle ram- 
pagin’ an’ bellerin’ aroun’ down yander ?” de- 
manded Joe Trimble, breaking the silence and 
peering forward curiously. “ What are they 
up to ? Y-a-a-h!” 

He burst into a loud yell and set off running 
at the top of his speed, discharging his pistol 
as he ran to scatter the herd. 

Swift -footed as he was, however, a wom- 
an outstripped him ; and, by the time the 
others came up, Jack’s mother was kneeling 
in the grass, and her arms were about her 
boy. 

When Jack, after swallowing a mouthful of 
water, had revived a little, and the color had 
begun to come back into' his poor, pale face, 
his wound was dressed and his broken leg 
bandaged. Then he faltered out the story, 
with his head on his mother’s bosom and 
his hand held close in his father’s strong 
grasp. 

“ I could feel the fire in their blazing eyes,” 
he concluded. “ I thought I would never see 
you and mother again, father. And if it hadn’t 
been for Lady — Don’t cry, mother, I’m all 
right now. Why, mother, your eyes are just 
UJce Lady’s!” 


162 



jack’s mother was kneeling in the grass with her arms 

ABOUT HER BOY 





AN OUTLAW 


Uncle Gid got up and walked over to where 
the Outlaw lay panting on the dry grass. He 
reeled like a fainting man as he went. At his 
approach the mare threw out her slender fore- 
legs and tried to get up, hut fell feebly back, 
quivering with terror. The old man dropped 
on his knees beside her, and laid his hand on 
the whelk that disfigured her flank. “ Heaven 
forgive me for a sinful man !” he cried. “ I 
struck you in anger, Lady; I struck you; and 
if it hadn’t been for you, my son, my only 
son — ” A sob choked his utterance, and he 
could not finish. But Lady turned her head 
toward him and whickered softly. She under- 
stood ! 

There was a moment of awed silence. 

Then Mr. Pinson blew his nose, wiped his 
eyes, and stepped forward. “ Gentlemen an’ 
Mis’ Bishop,” he said, with an oratorical flour- 
ish, “ Lady is a honor to her sect ! The fe- 
male sect, gentlemen an’ Mis’ Bishop, is ever 
faithful an’ ever true. Lady, notwithstandin’ 
she air a mare an’ a Outlaw — ” 

“ Three cheers for Lady!” interrupted Jack, 
with the old sparkle in his eyes, though his 
voice was a bit unsteady. “ Hurrah for Lady ! 

Hip, hip, hur-r-a-a-h !” 

163 


KING OF THE PLAINS 

And such cheers went ringing over the 
prairie and across The Rough that old Granny 
Carnes afterward declared she heard them at 
Bishop’s store, ten miles away. 


XII 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 



Defending the Flag 

|X the Fourth of July, 1894, the 

E main street of Thomasville, Da- 
kota, was entirely deserted of the 
j| usual loungers in front of its stores, 
for the male population, and some of the 
female, for the matter of that, were gath- 
ered at the station, where stood an overland 
train to which were attached several Pullman 
cars. Not a wheel of the train had turned for 
six days, and the besieged passengers had re- 
signed themselves to the inevitable — the scarcity 
and poorness of food and the exorbitant prices 
charged for the bare necessaries — and waited 
and hoped for the coming of United States 
troops, news of which they had in some mys- 
terious way, as no communications were made 
165 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


known that were not wholly favorable to the 
strike. 

Though so far there had been no active 
demonstration against the train since the en- 
gine had been “ killed,” to-day a feeling of 
dread possessed the passengers, for the national 
holiday was to be celebrated by the strikers, and 
what would happen before night no one knew. 
And the citizens of Thomasville were not such 
as are calculated to inspire ideas of peace or 
security; great, brawny men they were, who 
stood about in their shirt - sleeves, with large, 
soft, felt hats jammed on their heads. Every 
man carried a “ gun ” at his hip, some even 
showed two. 

To-day the water-tank at the end of the long 
platform appeared to be the rallying-point, and 
the people had an air of expectancy that de- 
veloped into cheers as one man was seen to 
climb the crossed beams and supports until he 
stood beside the wooden reservoir, and from 
that elevation survey his audience with im- 
mense satisfaction. But his expression changed 
to intense hatred when his eye rested on a young 
man wearing the conductor’s uniform who was 
an earnest though quiet spectator as he stood 
at the end of the train. 

166 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


The man at the tank began a speech bristling 
with praise of the strike and the success that 
was bound to attend it; he berated capital in 
terms that left nothing to be desired in the 
minds of his listeners, and he finished by say- 
ing : “ They call this a country of freedom, 
boys ; but it’s being ground under the iron heels 
of capitalists, and freedom ain’t in it, it can’t 
be, as long as we let them control things. But 
you can jus’ gamble your whole outfit that their 
reign is over, and it won’t be long before the 
Stars and Stripes float over a country that is 
free — free of capital and capitalists, and gov- 
erned by labor for labor. And to-day, boys, 
bein’ the day that liberty was declared on over 
a hundred years ago, we’ll start over again and 
drape the old flag in crape for the death of the 
Government that has encouraged — yes, it has 
made — capital, and we’ll have a birthday of 
freedom that is freedom!” 

He stopped and the crowd broke into cheers, 
sending off their guns in testimony of approval, 
and the speaker was about to descend from his 
perch when one more shot caused them to turn 
and see that it had come from the conductor’s 
revolver, and that he had stepped forward with 
his lips quivering. 


167 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


u I’ve been listenin’ to your friend’s speech, 
boys; now you listen to mine. The first man 
who puts two inches of crape on the old flag 
settles with me for it. It ain’t thirty years 
since my father fought and died for the Stars 
and Stripes, and no man can do better than 
that now. But I ain’t a-goin’ to have to. You 
know too much to fire on a man for standin’ by 
the flag! You’re all crazy, boys, every one of 
you. You’re drunker on strike than ever you 
was on whiskey, and you’re goin’ to have a bad 
time gettin’ sober. If you think the United 
States is goin’ to knuckle’ under to a lot of 
strikers, you’re backin’ the wrong color, that’s 
all I’ve got to say, and I’ll drink a quick jour- 
ney over the line to any man that wants to see 
our Government ditched, and I’ll help to send 
him there. You used to be friends of mine; 
this is my home, and I’d have stood by you. 
But you played me a skulkin’ trick, stoppin’ 
my train and killin’ my engine, and you’re 
nothin’ but yaller greasers that no white would 
have for a friend. That’s all, except till the 
troops get here I’ll guard the old flag myself. 
Better not forget.” And he walked back and 
seated himself on the car-steps. 

For a moment the crowd was silent, then be- 
168 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


gan to mutter and glance threateningly at the 
conductor, who was talking to one of the pas- 
sengers. Gradually, however, it thinned, and a 
man walked to the train official. 

“ Better give it up, Barbour ; you can’t do 
it. The only reason you warn’t dropped now 
was the hoys liked your grit, for the game 
warn’t going your way; but that didn’t bluff 
you. You ain’t no coward, Jim, we know that, 
but you’ve got a wife and kid, an’ you’ve got 
to remember ’em.” 

“ That’s just the deal, Gammon. I have got 
a wife an’ kid, and I mean to do my share to 
keep the flag respected an’ this country safe for 
a man’s family. You strikers can talk big, but 
you can’t harm Uncle Sam, and I mean to 
stand by him and walk a free man while 
you rot in prison. Sorry to talk like this 
to you, Tom, but that’s the trail I’m fol- 
lowin’, and the sooner you all know it the 
better.” 

Gammon stared a moment and walked away 
without replying. 

“ I’ll trail round after that procession,” Bar- 
bour said to himself, “ and, when the hoys know 
my blood is up, I reckon they’ll let Old Glory 

wave ’thout any black mixed in.” 

169 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


True to his resolution, Barbour followed the 
motley and unorganized parade, keeping always 
a certain distance from the flag; hut no atten- 
tion was paid to him or to the colors, and Bar- 
bour congratulated himself that his presence 
was a restraint. 

At the hotel, amid much shouting and calls 
and cheers, the procession disbanded, and he 
saw the flagstaff stuck in a socket by the en- 
trance, where its colors hung in limp folds, and 
was about to turn away when the man who had 
addressed the strikers stepped up, and, pulling 
a piece of rusty black crape from his pocket, 
threw it over the flag. Scarcely had it settled 
in place when Barbour was upon him, and with 
one blow of his clinched fist laid the man at his 
feet. Then with a quick movement he snatched 
off the crape, and, throwing it down, trod it into 
ribbons. None of the bystanders interfered; 
each man’s fight is his own, and a clean, square 
blow is a thing to be respected. Barbour prod- 
ded the man with his foot, and he opened his 
eyes dazedly. 

“ Try that again,” Barbour said, slowly, 
“ and you won’t be able to open your eyes. 
I’d ’a’ killed you now, but you ain’t worth it.” 
Unable to find words to express himself, he 
170 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


stopped. “ I’ll give you one more chance,” he 
concluded. “ Don’t throw it away.” 

The man had scrambled to his feet, and some 
one brought him a drink, which he swallowed 
thirstily. He was breathing hard, but with a 
great effort he controlled himself. His score 
could be settled through other people, he 
thought, and he spoke to Barbour, utterly ig- 
noring the recent encounter. 

“ I was going to say, Mr. Barbour, that we’ve 
given you just two hours to join us and be a 
member of the finest association in the States, 
and when they’re up we’ll go to your house for 
answer. And I don’t mind tellin’ you, man to 
man, that I’d advise you to join. Savvy ?” 

Barbour’s eyes were blazing with wrath and 
his hands were clinched. He eyed the man 
from head to foot for a second, then answered, 
with a voice in which rage and contempt were 
mingled : 

“ I am sorry for any organization you repre- 
sent. Why, even a tenderfoot could spot you 
for a blackleg and scoundrel. I wouldn’t join 
you, not if I knew I was goin’ to make my 
everlastin’ fortune or be dropped the nex’ min- 
ute for refusin’. How you’ve got my answer, 
I don’t believe there’s anythin’ more to say; 

171 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


but I expect to be home in two hours, if you 
should want to see me agin.” 

The man scowled and turned to go into the 
house : “ You think you’re smart, but wait an’ 
see how you like your medicine.” 

“ Well,” Barbour said, cheerfully, “ if you’re 
mixed up in it, of course I won’t like it, for I 
couldn’t like nothin’ you was connected with, 
even if it was heaven.” He took the flag from 
its socket and raised it to his shoulder. “ I’ll 
keep this with me,” he said, carelessly. “ I 
can look after it better.” 

The man took a step forward. 

“ Give that to me !” he demanded. 

“ Old Glory never waves over a traitor when 
there is a friend to defend it,” Barbour re- 
plied. “ The Stars and Stripes is mine. You’d 
better hoist a skull an’ crossbones. That’s your 
kind.” And he turned away and started for 
his home, a mile east of the town. 

At the cabin door stood Barbour’s wife, wait- 
ing for him, and the small boy, catching sight 
of his father, left the task of Ailing shells for 
his rifle and ran out to meet him. 

“ I’ve got a lot of ’em ready now, dad — a lot 
— and if any of the strikers come round I’m 
goin’ to pot ’em. Can’t I?” 

172 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


u Well, you are a bloodthirsty young citi- 
zen, ?? Barbour said, clasping his son’s hand and 
continuing on his way. “ What do you want to 
pot ’em for?” 

“ For keepin’ your train here an’ talkin’ so 
to you. If I was big I’d go in town an’ do it, 
but ma won’t let me out of her sight. Say, 
dad, ma was cryin’ this mornin’. Do you know 
what for ?” 

“ Well, I can’t be sure, sonny,” his father 
said, gravely. “ Maybe you was worse than 
usual.” 

“ I ’ain’t,” the boy denied, indignantly. “ I 
’ain’t been bad at all. Just ask her!” 

“ ’Ain’t you ? Maybe she was worried ’cause 
you was too good. ’Tain’t your natural state, 
son. Well, here I am, Jen, skin whole. There 
ain’t so much as a scratch about me, an’ hungry 
enough to eat the whole outfit.” 

“ Dinner’s ready an’ waitin’, Jim. I’ve been 
watchin’ this half-hour. What was all them 
shots for in town this mornin’ ? I got so wor- 
ried I near went over to see. An’ what have 
you got the flag for?” 

“ Thought we’d celebrate the Fourth, Jen, 
an’ put it up here,” Barbour said, carelessly, 
producing a bit of cord and lashing the staff to 

12 173 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


one of the porch posts. “ There ain’t wind 
enough to float it,” he continued, eying it af- 
fectionately, “ but it looks kind of patriotic, 
don’t it? Say, Jacky, that’s the bulliest flag 
in the whole world, an’ you stand by it always, 
though you drop for it.” * 

Seated in the big kitchen, that was kept as 
cool as the weather permitted, Barbour re- 
counted the events of the morning; hut the 
narration was modified to suit his audience, 
and of his encounter with the striker, and 
the threats that had been made, he said 
nothing. 

“ But I’ve heard that troops have started out 
from Sully, an’ they may get here to-morrow, 
or even to-night; it depends on how much the 
strikers can do along the line to hinder ’em. 
But they’re goin’ to put my train through to 
the coast if it takes all the soldiers Uncle Sam’s 
got, an’ we’ll be as peaceful as kittens in three 
days — see if we ain’t.” 

“ Ain’t the men mad about the troops corn- 
in’ ?” Mrs. Barbour asked. 

“ Well, I didn’t think to ask ’em — I really 
didn’t,” Barbour said, with the air of one who 
admits an oversight. 

“ You shut up, Jim Barbour,” the woman 
174 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


replied, good - naturedly. “ You’d have your 
joke if you was dyin’ !” 

“ It don’t do no harm to keep jolly, old girl. 
Seen my tobacco?” he asked, taking a much- 
blackened pipe from his pocket. u I’ll have a 
smoke before I go back.” He had taken off his 
coat and was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, tilted 
hack in his chair, and half rocking, with his 
feet on another. It was quarter of two; it 
lacked fifteen minutes of the limit of time he 
had told the strike leader he would he at home, 
but he meant to wait a half-hour later than 
that. 

“ Say, girl, your gun in order ?” he asked, 
suddenly. 

His wife stopped clearing the table. 

“ Why ?” she demanded. 

“ Was only wonderin’,” Barbour said, puff- 
ing his pipe lazily. “ You’re pretty quiet, 
Jacky. What mischief you hatchin’ now?” 

“ Nothin’. I’m fillin’ shells. Say, dad, how 
many strikers is there?” 

u Shouldn’t wonder if there was most a hun- 
dred, son.” 

“ Well, I’ve got nearly shells enough for ’em 
all, then,” the boy said, after a short silence, 
while he counted his ammunition. 

175 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ You’re the most dangerous chap I’ve come 
across jet,” Barbour remarked. “ Glad you’re 
on my side. I’d hate to buck up agin you.” 

The heat seemed to be radiating in great 
waves from the prairie, and the stillness outside 
was intense. Barbour was taking a cat-nap, 
though the pipe was still between his teeth. 
He had reached the stage where exhaustion 
dominates mental anxiety, and no sooner had the 
opportunity come than he began to make up the 
sleep he had been losing for a week. The boy 
was packing a cartridge-belt with the shells he 
had filled, and his mother was working by the 
window, out of which she glanced absently; 
then, with a smothered exclamation, put down 
the steaming kettle she held. Again she looked 
out on the trail, then went to her husband and 
laid her hand on his shoulder. 

“ Jim,” she said, quietly. 

He opened his eyes instantly. 

“ Eh, what is it ? Oh, you, Jen ! I was 
dreamin’ I was on the train.” 

“ Jim, dear,” the woman repeated, “ there’s 
trouble at last ! The boys are cornin’ down the 
trail — a crowd of ’em. They’ll be here in five 
minutes. What can we do ?” 

Barbour had jumped to his feet and gone 
176 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 

to the window. “ Yes, there they are, as drunk 
a lot as yon conld find. Do, girl? Nothin’ 
but stand our ground. Question is, what ’ll 
they do ? Give me your gun.” 

“ You’ve got one of your own, ’ain’t you ?” 
Mrs. Barbour asked. 

“ Yes, here,” her husband answered, with his 
hand on his hip. 

“ Then I’ll keep mine to use myself. Ain’t 
there no one to help us ? Not one ?” 

“ No, indeed; hut don’t you worry. We’ll 
stand ’em off all right. Jacky!” he called; 
then, as the boy came running to him, “ there 
may he trouble here, son, an’ you keep away 
from the windows an’ door. Understan’ what 
I say, an’ mind your mother the minute 
she speaks. If you don’t, I’ll give you the 
biggest larrupin’ later you ever had in your 
life.” 

“ Please, daddy, can’t I be in the fun ¥’ the 
boy teased. “ Please ; I’ve got so many shells, 
an’ they’re no good, except for my rifle !” 

“ You’re likely to he in it more than I wish 
you was,” his father said, grimly. “ Stand 
steady, girl,” he continued to his wife ; “ they’re 
most here now. No, don’t close that door. 
Leave it open.” 


177 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ But we don’t want ’em cornin’ in,” the 
woman remonstrated. 

“ No, I’m goin’ out to them. Do you s’pose 
I’d have ’em think I was afraid?” 

He started to the door, and his wife, know- 
ing the uselessness of opposition, went quickly to 
a shelf and took from it a loaded revolver, which 
she dropped in her apron pocket; then, with 
her hand still on the butt, followed her hus- 
band to the door, out of which he went, and 
down the one step to the ground, so that he 
stood on a level w T ith the throng that was now 
in front of the house. The orator of the morn- 
ing was at their head, and near him was Gam- 
mon. It was to him that Barbour spoke. 

“ Well, what do you want ?” he demanded. 

But the strike leader answered : “ The time 
I mentioned in our conversation is up, Mr. 
Barbour, an’ my brother associates is come 
for their answer. Are you with us or agin 
us ?” 

“ I told you this mornin’ I was agin you,” 
Barbour said, shortly. “ Say, Gammon, what’s 
his name ?” with a nod to the spokesman. 

“ Darrell.” 

“ Well, Mr. Darrell, s’pose you go back 
where you came from.” 

178 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


“ No hurry, Mr. Barbour. We’ve got some 
business, an’ we want you in it.” 

“ Well, you won’t get me.” 

“ Maybe Mrs. Barbour can persuade you,” 
Darrell continued, with a glance at the woman. 
“ If not, we’ll try. Won’t you ask us in to 
sit down?” 

“ Ho,” Barbour replied, curtly. 

“ It don’t matter,” the spokesman responded. 
“ Look here,” he began, rapidly, “ the troop- 
train ’ll be here to-night. Hever mind how I 
know. An’ they mean to go on, an’ if they 
get to Edgartown the strike will be broke, jes’ 
as you say. They mustn’t get there. Savvy? 
If we hold out three days longer we win, an’ 
the troops must be stopped here, an’ the train, 
too, for some of the road officers is aboard.” 

“ Bully !” shouted Barbour. “ I thought the 
road wouldn’t stand everythin’ ! Why, nothin’ 
could stop ’em now!” 

“ You can.” 

“I!” Barbour ejaculated, too astonished to 
say more. 

“ Yes,” Darrell went on. “This way: the 
conductor got a clip on the head with a rock 
back at Milton, when they stopped there this 
mornin’, an’ he’s laid up. They’re goin’ to 
179 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


leave him here an’ take you on to-night. 
You’re to run ’em to Edgartown.” 

“ See here,” Barbour interrupted suspicious- 
ly, “ how do you know so much ?” 

“ That’s my business ; but I’m givin’ it to 
you straight. The road knows you’ve been 
faithful to ’em ” — Barbour’s face beamed with 
a stern smile — “ an’ you’ll be in charge of the 
troop-train; an’ here’s what you’ve got to do, 
for there ain’t no one else can: Forty miles 
west of here there’s a long up-grade, with a 
curve at the bottom an’ a sidin’ there; you 
know it. We’re go in’ to let the train leave here 
with you on board, an’ when it gets to the top 
of that grade you be in the car nex’ to the en- 
gine an’ let go the couplin’. You’ll be all 
right, an’ the rest of the train ’ll go humpin’ 
back like lightnin’, an’ the sidin’ ’ll be open 
then, and, when it strikes, the cars ’ll make good 
kindlin’-wood for the ranches. Get on to it? 
We’re goin’ to send two men on to look after 
the switch, and we’ll make the uncouplin’ easy 
for you. We’ll teach ’em what it is to buck 
agin men that’s fightin’ for their rights.” 

Barbour’s face was livid. 

“ Your rights !” he exclaimed. “ You dogs ! 
if you had your rights you’d all be in states- 
180 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


prison now. And that’s where you all will 
find yourselves if you don’t stop and think be- 
fore carrying out your threats.” 

For an instant it seemed as though the 
speaker would choke with rage, and Darrell 
had drawn his gun and held it muzzle down. 
Mrs. Barbour, hack of her husband, took an 
impulsive step forward and then stopped, but 
her eyes never left Darrell, and her hand was 
in her apron pocket. 

“ Do you know what you want me to do ?” 
Barbour went on. “ Why, it’s murder — whole- 
sale murder! An’, besides that, it’s betrayin’ 
the trust the road puts in me! Why, it’s the 
most rascally plot that was ever hatched, an’ 
I tell you there ain’t no power on earth, or 
above or below, as ’ll make me help in it, 
an’ if I can I’ll stop it — God helpin’ me, I 
will !” 

“ Well, you can’t,” Darrell said, “ and you’ll 
do what we say.” His moment of revenge had 
come, and he gloated in it. “ You’re a great 
man, you are! You knocked me down this 
mornin’. It’s my turn now! You pull down 
that flag an’ drop your guff or we’ll see that 
you do. That right, boys?” 

A shout of approbation greeted Darrell, and, 
. 181 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


strengthened bj his backing, he continued, sig- 
nificantly : 

“ When a broncho tries to go his own way 
the cowboy has means of makin’ him change 
his mind. Savvy? You’re game. We know 
that; but you’re goin’ to play our han’ this 
roun’.” 

“ ]STot while I’ve got one breath in my body !” 
Barbour replied, undaunted. 

“ Well, we don’t want to send you out, do 
we, Gammon ?” Darrell said, easily, revelling 
in his power. “ That is, not unless you make 
us,” he added, with a sinister change of tone. 
“ That’s for you to say ; but we’ll try per- 
suadin’ first,” he continued, devilishly. “ May- 
be you recollec’ how Jones got them two horse- 
thieves to tell what they’d done with the horses 
awhile back. Jus’ staked the men out even, 
with their feet over a heap of good coals. Jones 
got the horses that night, an’ the men was lyin’ 
with bullets through their heads. He didn’t 
think there was any use of their livin’ ’thout 
their feet. Don’t you think he’ll take down his 
Old Glory an’ do what we want, boys?” 

Before Darrell had finished speaking the 
mob had caught his idea, and, with the demon 
of drink within them, it was greeted with a 
182 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


cheer of fiendish delight. There was an in- 
stantaneous movement, and three or four men 
ran to the woodpile and began to pick up kin- 
dlings, and others shouted : “ Wire ! Cut the 
telegraph wire!” 

“ Try the corral !” somebody answered. And 
with a curious sensation Barbour recollected 
the coil of wire that had been put there to 
repair the corral fence, and in a flash he saw, 
in his imagination, the mob wiring down his 
legs below the knees and his arms above the 
wrists. It was no empty threat they were 
making. The Indians were taught much by 
the white men, and the whites in turn learned 
from the Indians. 

The triumphant shout that greeted the re- 
appearance of the men with the wire was re- 
doubled when two others followed waving iron 
pickets and yelling, 

“ These are better than green wood to peg 
out with !” 

Already a fire had been lighted, and the lit- 
tle tongues of flame were growing larger and 
crackling fiercely as dry wood was heaped on. 
Since Darrell had spoken, Barbour had stood 
immovable, but no detail of the preparations 
had escaped him. His wife’s position had not 
183 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


changed, but at Darrell’s first intimation of 
torture she had drawn her hand from her pock- 
et, and it hung at her side, the pistol concealed 
by the folds of her apron. 

Darrell and Gammon divided their attention 
between watching Barbour and the work; and 
as he saw the men who were pounding the 
stakes dodge the smoke and flames they were 
uncomfortably near, Darrell’s face was dis- 
torted with malignant joy. Over the crowd 
itself a curious stillness had fallen, and the 
sound of ringing blows as the iron pegs were 
driven home was the only break in the great 
hush of the prairies. 

As the last blow was struck the men massed 
themselves behind Darrell — all but two who 
fed the fire. Darrell’s eyes swept the entire 
scene. 

“ All ready ?” he asked. 

Again came the yells that were only half 
human, and the men surged forward, moved by 
a common impulse. Darrell shouted at them, 
and his voice rose above their cries, that had 
sunk to a strangely deep pitch. 

“ Hold up a minute till we give him a show !” 
he howled. They only half stopped; the de- 
sire to torture and kill w T as stronger in them 
184 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


now than Darrell could control, and their feet 
were pounding the ground as he faced Barbour 
fiendishly and asked, 

“ Do you join us ?” 

Barbour’s voice rang out above the tumult. 

“ No !” 

A frenzied yell broke from the men, and with 
Darrell at their head they swept toward Bar- 
bour, who quickly raised his gun, levelled it at 
Darrell, and dropped him as the mob was 
scarcely six yards from the pistol. 

“ Stop !” he shouted. “ The first man who 
comes a step nearer drops, too! You cowards! 
Stop and look at a man!” 

With his eyes holding those nearest him who 
had halted instinctively as they faced the 
gleaming barrel, Barbour could not see a man 
at one side taking aim. He only heard the 
report of a rifle, followed by Jacky’s voice 
crying, excitedly: 

“ He was gettin’ the drop on you, dad, but 
I got him ! — I got him ! I’ve got my rifle, and 
I’m with you, dad !” 

The sensation of pride that Barbour had was 
that of the Spartans when their sons set out to 
the wars, and it showed itself in the glow that 
lighted his face for a second, then faded, leav- 
185 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


ing it as set as before. The revolver was still 
covering the crowd, and he spoke again, not 
loudly, but with a distinctness and force irre- 
sistible : 

“ Get out of here, every one of you ! I’m 
not afraid. You know it. Now get ! In three 
minutes I don’t want to see one of you about 
this corral. Any one that is ’ll take the same 
trail as that thing you’ve had for a leader. I’m 
a man of my word, and my gun is on you. 
When I count three, I want to see every man 
goin’ !” 

A deadly silence was over the throng. They 
saw what Barbour could not — that one step 
behind, with her pistol covering them, was Mrs. 
Barbour, and close to her skirts was Jacky, his 
rifle at his shoulder. 

The first step that Barbour took his wife and 
son moved, too, at the same pace, and the 
“One!” he spoke floated out and was swal- 
lowed in the vastness of the still plains. The 
crowd swayed irresolutely, and Barbour stood 
a moment with his finger on the trigger, then 
moved again deliberately. 

“ Two !” he said and waited, and the woman 
and child were beside him. 

“ There’s only one step more !” He was 
186 


A FRONTIER PATRIOT 


standing firmly, but as he spoke Barbour shift- 
ed his weight and poised it on his left foot 
preparatory to moving, and the brown mass 
was still swaying. He raised his foot and was 
about to speak when Gammon exclaimed: 

“ I’m hanged if I fight a woman and a kid, 
boys ! We’ll get out of this. The game’s up.” 

A smothered assent answered him, and the 
crowd separated and began a broken and dis- 
ordered retreat. Barbour continued to face 
them, but their demoralization was complete. 
He watched until they were an indistinct mass, 
and then his gaze left them and went to the fire 
still burning and to the two inert bodies upon 
the ground, and he wiped the sweat from his 
forehead and sat down upon the step. Mrs. 
Barbour laid her hand on his shoulder, an un- 
usual mark of demonstration from her, and 
Jacky crept up fearfully, visions of a larruping 
before him for breaking the parental command. 

“ I didn’t mean to, dad,” he said, pleadingly, 
“ ’deed I didn’t, but he said to pull down the 
flag, and he’d ’a’ dropped you, and I couldn’t 
let you stand there ’thout another man with 
you, could I ?” 

Barbour picked up the embryo man and sat 
him on his knee. 


187 


KING OF THE PLAINS 


“ You stood by the flag like a soldier, J acky, 
and you helped break the strike at Thomasville, 
for it’s busted! But I hope the next one ’ll 
come in cool weather. It’s a very hot day to 
work.” 


THE END 







One copy del. to Cat. Div. 


OCT 15 1910 



